, 


•      •• 


LI  E>  RARY 

OF   THL 
U  N  I  VERS  ITY 


Tom 


839.  BB 


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JAN  1  3  1981 


•L161— O-1096 


LI  B  R.AR.Y 

OF   THE 
UN  IVERSITY 


Tom 


839 


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I 

SMOOTH  as  glass  the  water  was  yesterday,  and 
smooth  as  glass  it  is  again  to-day.  Indian 
summer  on  the  island,  mild  and  warm — ah  !  But 
there  is  no  sun. 

It  is  many  years  now  since  I  knew  such  peace. 
Twenty  or  thirty  years,  maybe  ;  or  maybe  it  was  in 
another  life.  But  I  have  felt  it  some  time,  surely,  since 
I  go  about  now  humming  a  little  tune  ;  go  about  re- 
joicing, loving  every  straw  and  every  stone,  and  feeling 
as  if  they  cared  for  me  in  return. 

When  I  go  by  the  overgrown  path,  in  through  the 
woods,  my  heart  quivers  with  an  unearthly  joy.  I  call 
to  mind  a  spot  on  the  eastern  shores  of  the  Caspian, 
where  I  once  stood.  All  just  as  it  is  here,  with  the 
water  still  and  heavy  and  iron-grey  as  now.  I  walked 
through  the  woods,  touched  to  the  heart,  and  verging 
on  tears  for  sheer  happiness'  sake,  and  saying  to  myself 
all  the  time :  God  in  heaven.  To  be  here  again.  .  .  . 

As  if  I  had  been  there  before. 

Ah  well,  I  may  have  been  there  once  before,  perhaps, 
coming  from  another  time  and  another  land,  where  the 
woods  and  the  woodland  paths  were  the  same. 
Perhaps  I  was  a  flower  then,  in  the  woods,  or  perhaps  a 
beetle,  with  its  home  in  some  acacia  tree. 

And  now  I  have  come  to  this  place.  Perhaps  I  was 
a  bird  and  flew  all  that  long  way.  Or  the  kernel  in 
some  fruit  sent  by  a  Persian  trader. 

See,  now  I  am  well  away  from  the  rush  and  crowd  of 


WANDERERS 


Original  Titles:    "  Under  Hjststjarnen" 

"En   Vandrer  spiller  med  Sordin" 
Translated  from  the  Norwegian  by  W.   WORSTER,  M.A. 


WANDERERS 

("AUTUMN"  AND  "WITH  MUTED 
STRINGS") 


BY 

KNUT   HAMSUN 


GYLDENDAL 
11  HANOVER  SQUARE,  LONDON,  W.I 

COPENHAGEN  CHRISTIANIA 


o 

c/> 


to 

OT 


oo 


AUTUMN 


I 

SMOOTH  as  glass  the  water  was  yesterday,  and 
smooth  as  glass  it  is  again  to-day.  Indian 
summer  on  the  island,  mild  and  warm — ah  !  But 
there  is  no  sun. 

It  is  many  years  now  since  I  knew  such  peace. 
Twenty  or  thirty  years,  maybe  ;  or  maybe  it  was  in 
another  life.  But  I  have  felt  it  some  time,  surely,  since 
I  go  about  now  humming  a  little  tune  ;  go  about  re- 
joicing, loving  every  straw  and  every  stone,  and  feeling 
as  if  they  cared  for  me  in  return. 

When  I  go  by  the  overgrown  path,  in  through  the 
woods,  my  heart  quivers  with  an  unearthly  joy.  I  call 
to  mind  a  spot  on  the  eastern  shores  of  the  Caspian, 
where  I  once  stood.  All  just  as  it  is  here,  with  the 
water  still  and  heavy  and  iron-grey  as  now.  I  walked 
through  the  woods,  touched  to  the  heart,  and  verging 
on  tears  for  sheer  happiness'  sake,  and  saying  to  myself 
all  the  time  :  God  in  heaven.  To  be  here  again.  .  .  . 

As  if  I  had  been  there  before. 

Ah  well,  I  may  have  been  there  once  before,  perhaps, 
coming  from  another  time  and  another  land,  where  the 
woods  and  the  woodland  paths  were  the  same. 
Perhaps  I  was  a  flower  then,  in  the  woods,  or  perhaps  a 
beetle,  with  its  home  in  some  acacia  tree. 

And  now  I  have  come  to  this  place.  Perhaps  I  was 
a  bird  and  flew  all  that  long  way.  Or  the  kernel  in 
some  fruit  sent  by  a  Persian  trader. 

See,  now  I  am  well  away  from  the  rush  and  crowd  of 


4  WANDERERS 

the  city,  from  people  and  newspapers  ;  I  have  fled  away 
from  it  all,  because  of  the  calling  that  came  to  me  once 
more  from  the  quiet,  lonely  tracts  where  I  belong. 
"  It  will  all  come  right  this  time,"  I  tell  myself,  and  am 
full  of  hope.  Alas,  I  have  fled  away  from  the  city  like 
this  before,  and  afterwards  returned.  And  fled  away 
again. 

But  this  time  I  am  resolved.  Peace  I  will  have,  at 
any  cost.  And  for  the  present  I  have  taken  a  room  in 
a  cottage  here,  with  Old  Gunhild  to  look  after  me. 

Here  and  there  among  the  pines  are  rowans,  with 
ripe  coral  berries  ;  now  the  berries  are  falling,  heavy 
clusters  striking  the  earth.  So  they  reap  themselves 
and  sow  themselves  again,  an  inconceivable  abundance 
to  be  squandered  every  single  year.  Over  three  hundred 
clusters  I  can  count  on  a  single  tree.  And  here  and 
there  about  are  flowers  still  in  bloom,  obstinate  things 
that  will  not  die,  though  their  time  is  really  past. 

But  Old  Gunhild's  time  is  past  as  well — and  think 
you  she  will  die  ?  She  goes  about  as  if  death  were  a 
thing  did  not  concern  her.  When  the  fishermen  are 
down  on  the  beach,  painting  their  boats  or  darning 
nets,  comes  Gunhild  with  her  vacant  eyes,  but  with  a 
mind  as  keen  as  any  to  a  bargain. 

"And  what  is  the  price  of  mackerel  to-day?"  she 
asks. 

"  The  same  as  yesterday." 

"  Then  you  can  keep  it,  for  all  I  care." 

And  Gunhild  goes  back  home. 

But  the  fishermen  know  that  Gunhild  is  not  one  of 
those  that  only  pretend  to  go  away  ;  she  has  gone  off 
like  that  before  now,  up  to  her  cottage,  without  once 
looking  back.  So,  "Hey"  they  call  to  her,  and  say 
they'll  make  it  seven  to  the  half-dozen  to-day,  seeing 
she  is  an  old  customer. 

And  Gunhild  buys  her  fish.  .  .  . 


WANDERERS  5 

Washing  hangs  on  the  lines  to  dry  ;  red  petticoats 
and  blue  shirts,  and  under-things  of  preposterous  thick- 
ness, all  spun  and  woven  on  the  island  by  the  old 
women  still  left  alive.  But  there  is  washing,  too,  of 
another  sort :  those  fine  chemises  without  sleeves,  the 
very  thing  to  make  a  body  blue  with  cold,  and  mauve 
woollen  undervests  that  pull  out  to  no  more  than  the 
thickness  of  a  string.  And  how  did  these  abominations 
get  there?  Why,  'tis  the  daughters,  to  be  sure,  the 
young  girls  of  the  present  day,  who've  been  in  service 
in  the  towns,  and  earned  such  finery  that  way.  Wash 
them  carefully,  and  not  too  often,  and  the  things  will 
last  for  just  a  month.  And  then  there  is  a  lovely  naked 
feeling  when  the  holes  begin  to  spread. 

But  there  is  none  of  that  sort  of  nonsense,  now,  about 
Gunhild's  shoes,  for  instance.  At  suitable  intervals, 
she  goes  round  to  one  of  the  fishermen,  her  like  in  age 
and  mind,  and  gets  the  uppers  and  the  soles  done  in 
thoroughly  with  a  powerful  mess  of  stuff  that  leaves  the 
water  simply  helpless.  I've  seen  that  dubbin  boiling 
on  the  beach  ;  there's  tallow  in  it,  and  tar  and  resin  as 
well. 

Wandering  idly  along  the  beach  yesterday,  looking 
at  driftwood  and  scales  and  stones,  I  came  upon  a  tiny 
bit  of  plate  glass.  How  it  ever  got  there  is  more  than 
I  can  make  out ;  but  the  thing  seems  a  mistake,  a  very 
lie,  to  look  at.  Would  any  fisherman,  now,  have 
rowed  put  here  with  it  and  laid  it  down  and  rowed 
away  again  ?  I  left  it  where  it  lay  ;  it  was  thick  and 
common  and  vulgar ;  perhaps  a  bit  of  a  tramcar 
window.  Once  on  a  time  glass  was  rare,  and  bottle- 
green.  God's  blessing  on  the  old  days,  when  some- 
thing could  be  rare ! 

Smoke  rising  now  from  the  fisher-huts  on  the  southern 
point  of  the  island.  Evening  time,  and  porridge  cooking 
for  supper.  And  when  supper's  done,  decent  folk  go 


6  WANDERERS 

to  their  beds,  to  be  up  again  with  the  dawn.  Only 
young  and  foolish  creatures  still  go  trapesing  round 
from  house  to  house,  putting  off  their  bedtime,  not 
knowing  what  is  best  for  themselves. 

II 

A  man  landed  here  this  morning — come  to  paint  the 
house.  But  Old  Gunhild,  being  very  old  indeed,  and 
perishing  with  gout  most  times,  gets  him  to  cut  up  a 
few  days'  firewood  for  her  cooking  before  he  starts. 
I've  offered  many  a  time  to  cut  that  wood  myself,  but 
she  thinks  my  clothes  too  fine,  and  would  not  let  me 
have  the  axe  on  any  account. 

This  painter,  now,  is  a  short,  thick-set  fellow  with 
red  hair  and  no  beard.  I  watch  him  from  behind  a 
window  as  he  works,  to  see  how  he  handles  the  axe. 
Then,  noticing  that  he  is  talking  to  himself,  I  steal  out 
of  the  house  to  listen.  If  he  makes  a  false  stroke,  he 
takes  it  patiently,  and  does  not  trouble  himself;  but 
whenever  he  knocks  his  knuckles,  he  turns  irritable 
and  says  :  "  Fan!  Fansmagt!"1 — and  then  looks  round 
suddenly  and  starts  humming  a  tune  to  cover  his 
words. 

Yes  ;  I  recognise  that  painter  man.  Only,  he's  not  a 
painter  at  all,  the  rascal,  but  Grindhusen,  one  of  the 
men  I  worked  with  when  I  was  roadmaking  at  Skreia. 

I  go  up  to  him,  and  ask  if  he  remembers  me,  and  we 
talk  a  bit. 

Many,  many  years  it  is  now  since  we  were  road- 
menders  together,  Grindhusen  and  I ;  we  were  young- 
sters then,  and  danced  along  the  roads  in  the  sorriest  of 
shoes,  and  ate  what  we  could  get  as  long  as  we  had 
money  enough  for  that.  But  when  we'd  money  to 
spare,  then  there  would  be  dancing  with  the  girls  all 
1  "  The  Devil !  Power  of  the  Devil !  " 


WANDERERS  7 

Saturday  night,  and  a  crowd  of  our  work-mates  would 
come  along,  and  the  old  woman  in  the  house  sold  us 
coffee  till  she  must  have  made  a  little  fortune.  Then 
we  worked  on  heart  and  soul  another  week  through, 
looking  forward  to  the  Saturday  again.  But  Grind- 
husen,  he  was  as  a  red-headed  wolf  after  the  girls. 

Did  he  remember  the  old  days  at  Skreia  ? 

He  looks  at  me,  taking  stock  of  me,  with  something 
of  reserve  ;  it  is  quite  a  while  before  I  can  draw  him 
out  to  remember  it  at  all. 

Yes,  he  remembers  Skreia  well  enough. 

"  And  Anders  Fila  and  '  Spiralen '  and  Petra  ?  " 

"Which  one?" 

"  Petra — the  one  that  was  your  girl." 

"Ay,  I  remember  her.  I  got  tied  up  with  her  at 
last." 

Grindhusen  falls  to  chopping  wood  again. 

"  Got  tied  up  with  her,  did  you  ?  " 

"Ay,  that  was  the  end  of  it.  Had  to  be,  I  suppose. 
What  was  I  going  to  say,  now  ?  You've  turned  out 
something  fine,  by  the  look  of  things." 

"Why?  Is  it  these  clothes  you're  thinking  of? 
You've  Sunday  clothes  yourself,  now,  haven't  you  ?  " 

"  What  d'you  give  for  those  you've  got  on  ?  " 

"  I  can't  remember,  but  it  was  nothing  very  much. 
Couldn't  say  exactly  what  it  was." 

Grindhusen  looks  at  me  in  astonishment  and  bursts 
out  laughing. 

"  What  ?    Can't  remember  what  you  paid  for  them  ?  " 

Then  he  turns  serious,  shakes  his  head,  and  says  : 
"No,  I  dare  say  you  wouldn't.  No.  That's  the  way 
when  you've  money  enough  and  beyond." 

Old  Gunhild  comes  out  from  the  house,  and  seeing  us 
standing  there  by  the  chopping-block  wasting  time  in 
idle  talk,  she  tells  Grindhusen  he'd  better  start  on  the 
painting. 


8  WANDERERS 

"  So  you've  turned  painter  now  ?  "  said  I. 
Grindhusen  made  no  answer,  and  I  saw  I  had  said  a 
thing  that  should  not  have  been  said  in  others'  hearing. 

Ill 

Grindhusen  works  away  a  couple  of  hours  with  his 
putty  and  paint,  and  soon  one  side  of  the  little  house, 
the  north  side,  facing  the  sea,  is  done  all  gaily  in  red. 
At  the  midday  rest,  I  go  out  and  join  him,  with  some- 
thing to  drink,  and  we  lie  on  the  ground  awhile,  chatting 
and  smoking. 

"  Painter  ?  Not  much  of  a  one,  and  that's  the  truth," 
says  he.  "  But  if  anyone  comes  along  and  asks  if  I  can 
paint  a  bit  of  a  wall,  why,  of  course  I  can.  First-rate 
Brcendevin  this  you've  got." 

His  wife  and  two  children  lived  some  four  miles  off, 
and  he  went  home  to  them  every  Saturday.  There 
were  two  daughters  besides,  both  grown  up,  and  one  of 
them  married.  Grindhusen  was  a  grandfather  already. 
As  soon  as  he'd  done  painting  Gunhild's  cottage — two 
coats  it  was  to  have — he  was  going  off  to  the  vicarage 
to  dig  a  well.  There  was  always  work  of  some  sort  to 
be  had  about  the  villages.  And  when  winter  set  in,  and 
the  frost  began  to  bind,  he  would  either  take  a  turn  of 
woodcutting  in  the  forests  or  lie  idle  for  a  spell,  till 
something  else  turned  up.  He'd  no  big  family  to  look 
after  now,  and  the  morrow,  no  doubt,  would  look  after 
itself  just  as  to-day. 

"If  I  could  only  manage  it,"  said  Grindhusen,  "I 
know  what  I'd  do.  I'd  get  myself  some  bricklayer's 
tools." 

"  So  you're  a  bricklayer,  too?  " 

"  Well,  not  much  of  a  one,  and  that's  the  truth.  But 
when  that  well's  dug,  why,  it'll  need  to  be  lined,  that's 
clear.  ,  ." 


WANDERERS  9 

I  sauntered  about  the  island  as  usual,  thinking  of  this 
and  that.  Peace,  peace,  a  heavenly  peace  comes  to  me 
in  a  voice  of  silence  from  every  tree  in  the  wood.  And 
now,  look  you,  there  are  but  few  of  the  small  birds  left ; 
only  some  crows  flying  mutely  from  place  to  place  and 
settling.  And  the  clusters  from  the  rowans  drop  with 
a  sullen  thud  and  bury  themselves  in  the  moss. 

Grindhusen  is  right,  perhaps  :  to-morrow  will  surely 
look  after  itself,  just  as  to-day.  I  have  not  seen  a  paper 
now  these  last  two  weeks,  and,  for  all  that,  here  I  am, 
alive  and  well,  making  great  progress  in  respect  of 
inward  calm  ;  I  sing,  and  square  my  shoulders,  and 
stand  bareheaded  watching  the  stars  at  night. 

For  eighteen  years  past  I  have  sat  in  cafe's,  calling  for 
the  waiter  if  a  fork  was  not  clean :  I  never  call  for  Gun- 
hild  in  the  matter  of  forks  clean  or  not !  There's  Grind- 
husen, now,  I  say  to  myself ;  did  you  mark  when  he  lit 
his  pipe,  how  he  used  the  match  to  the  very  last  of  it, 
and  never  burned  his  horny  fingers  ?  I  saw  a  fly  crawl- 
ing over  his  hand,  but  he  simply  let  it  crawl ;  perhaps 
he  never  noticed  it  was  there.  That  is  the  way  a  man 
should  feel  towards  flies.  .  .  . 

In  the  evening,  Grindhusen  takes  the  boat  and  rows 
off.  I  wander  along  the  beach,  singing  to  myself  a 
little,  throwing  stones  at  the  water,  and  hauling  bits  of 
driftwood  ashore.  The  stars  are  out,  and  there  is  a 
moon.  In  a  couple  of  hours  Grindhusen  comes  back, 
with  a  good  set  of  bricklayer's  tools  in  the  boat.  Stolen 
them  somewhere,  I  think  to  myself.  We  shoulder  each 
our  load,  and  hide  away  the  tools  among  the  trees. 

Then  it  is  night,  and  we  go  each  our  separate  way. 

Grindhusen  finishes  his  painting  the  following  after- 
noon, but  agrees  to  go  on  cutting  wood  till  six  o'clock 
to  make  up  a  full  day's  work.  I  get  out  Gunhild's  boat 
and  go  off  fishing,  so  as  not  to  be  there  when  he  leaves. 
I  catch  no  fish,  and  it  is  cold  sitting  in  the  boat ;  I  look 


io  WANDERERS 

at  my  watch  again  and  again.     At  last,  about  seven 

o'clock  :  he  must  be  gone  by  now,  I  say  to  myself,  and 

I  row  home.    Grindhusen  has  got  over  to  the  mainland, 

and  calls  across  to  me  from  there  :   "  Farvel!" 

Something  thrilled  me  warmly  at  the  word  ;  it  was 

like  a  calling  from  my  youth,  from  Skreia,  from  days  a 

generation  gone. 

I  row  across  to  him  and  ask : 

"  Can  you  dig  that  well  all  alone  ?  " 

"  No.     I'll  have  to  take  another  man  along." 

"Take  me,"  I  said.     "Wait  for  me  here,  while  I  go 

up  and  settle  at  the  house." 

Half-way  up  I  heard  Grindhusen  calling  again : 

"  I  can't  wait  here  all  night.    And  I  don't  believe  you 

meant  it,  anyway." 

"  Wait  just  a  minute.     I'll  be  down  again  directly." 
And  Grindhusen  sets  himself  down  on  the  beach  to 

wait.     He  knows  I've  some  of  that  first-rate  Brcendevin 

still  left. 

IV 

We  came  to  the  vicarage  on  a  Saturday.  After  much 
doubting,  Grindhusen  had  at  last  agreed  to  take  me  as 
his  mate.  I  had  bought  provisions  and  some  working 
clothes,  and  stood  there  now,  in  blouse  and  high  boots, 
ready  to  start  work.  I  was  free  and  unknown  ;  I  learned 
to  walk  with  a  long,  slouching  stride,  and  for  the  look 
of  a  labouring  man,  I  had  that  already  both  in  face  and 
hands.  We  were  to  put  up  at  the  vicarage  itself,  and 
cook  our  food  in  the  brewhouse  across  the  yard. 

And  so  we  started  on  our  digging. 

I  did  my  share  of  the  work,  and  Grindhusen  had  no 
fault  to  find  with  me  as  a  work-mate.  "You'll  turn 
out  a  first-rate  hand  at  this,  after  all,"  he  said. 

Then  after  we'd  been  working  a  bit,  the  priest  came 
out  to  look,  and  we  took  off  our  hats.  He  was  an 


WANDERERS  1 1 

oldish  man,  quiet  and  gentle  in  his  ways  and  speech  ; 
tiny  wrinkles  spread  out  fanwise  from  the  corners  of  his 
eyes,  like  the  traces  of  a  thousand  kindly  smiles.  He 
was  sorry  to  interrupt,  and  hoped  we  wouldn't  mind — 
but  they'd  so  much  trouble  every  year  with  the  fowls 
slipping  through  into  the  garden.  Could  we  leave  the 
well  just  for  a  little,  and  come  round  and  look  at  the 
garden  wall  ?  There  was  one  place  in  particular  .  .  . 

Grindhusen  answered  :  surely  ;  we'd  manage  that  for 
him  all  right. 

So  we  went  up  and  set  the  crumbling  wall  to  rights. 
While  we  were  busy  there  a  young  lady  came  out  and 
stood  looking  on.  We  greeted  her  politely,  and  I 
thought  her  a  beautiful  creature  to  see.  Then  a  half- 
grown  lad  came  out  to  look,  and  asked  all  sorts  of 
questions.  The  two  were  brother  and  sister,  no  doubt. 
And  the  work  went  easily  enough  with  the  young  folk 
there  looking  on. 

Then  evening  came.  Grindhusen  went  off  home, 
leaving  me  behind.  I  slept  in  the  hayloft  for  the  night. 

Next  day  was  Sunday.  I  dared  not  put  on  my  town 
clothes  lest  they  should  seem  above  my  station,  but 
cleaned  up  my  working  things  as  neatly  as  I  could,  and 
idled  about  the  place  in  the  quiet  of  Sunday  morning. 
I  chatted  to  the  farm-hands  and  joined  them  in  talking 
nonsense  to  the  maids  ;  when  the  bell  began  ringing 
for  church,  I  sent  in  to  ask  if  I  might  borrow  a  Prayer 
Book,  and  the  priest's  son  brought  me  one  himself. 
One  of  the  men  lent  me  a  coat ;  it  wasn't  big  enough, 
really,  but,  taking  off  my  blouse  and  vest,  I  made  it  do. 
And  so  I  went  to  church. 

That  inward  calm  I  had  been  at  such  pains  to  build 
up  on  the  island  proved  all  too  little  yet ;  at  the  first 
thrill  of  the  organ  I  was  torn  from  my  setting  and  came 
near  to  sobbing  aloud.  "  Keep  quiet,  you  fool,"  I  said 
to  myself,  "it's  only  neurasthenia."  I  had  chosen  a 


12  WANDERERS 

seat  well  apart  from  the  rest,  and  hid  my  emotion  as 
best  I  could.  I  was  glad  when  that  service  was  over. 

When  I  had  boiled  my  meat  and  had  some  dinner,  I 
was  invited  into  the  kitchen  for  a  cup  of  coffee.  And 
while  I  sat  there,  in  came  Frokenen,  the  young  lady 
I  had  seen  the  day  before  ;  I  stood  up  and  bowed  a 
greeting,  and  she  nodded  in  return.  She  was  charming, 
with  her  youth  and  her  pretty  hands.  When  I  got  up 
to  go,  I  forgot  myself  and  said  : 

"  Most  kind  of  you,  I'm  sure,  my  dear  young  lady  !  " 

She  glanced  at  me  in  astonishment,  frowned,  and  the 
colour  spread  in  her  cheeks  till  they  burned.  Then  with 
a  toss  of  her  head  she  turned  and  left  the  room.  She 
was  very  young. 

Well,  I  had  done  a  nice  thing  now  ! 

Miserable  at  heart,  I  sneaked  up  into  the  woods  to 
hide.  Impertinent  fool,  why  hadn't  I  held  my  tongue  ! 
Of  all  the  ridiculous  things  to  say  .  .  . 

The  vicarage  buildings  lay  on  the  slope  of  a  small 
hill ;  from  the  top,  the  land  stretched  away  flat  and 
level,  with  alternating  timber  and  clearing.  It  struck 
me  that  here  would  be  the  proper  place  to  dig  the  well, 
and  then  run  a  pipe-line  down  the  slope  to  the  house. 
Judging  the  height  as  nearly  as  I  can,  it  seems  more 
than  enough  to  give  the  pressure  needed  ;  on  the  way 
back  I  pace  out  the  approximate  length  :  two  hundred 
and  fifty  feet. 

But  what  business  was  it  of  mine,  after  all?  For 
Heaven's  sake  let  me  not  go  making  the  same  mistake 
again,  and  insulting  folk  by  talking  above  my  station. 


V 

Grindhusen  came  out  again  on  Monday  morning,  and 
we  fell  to  digging  as  before.  The  old  priest  came  out 
to  look,  and  asked  if  we  couldn't  fix  a  post  for  him  on 


WANDERERS  1 3 

the  road  up  to  the  church.  He  needed  it  badly,  that 
post ;  it  had  stood  there  before,  but  had  got  blown 
down  ;  he  used  it  for  nailing  up  notices  and  announce- 
ments. 

We  set  up  a  new  post,  and  took  pains  to  get  it 
straight  and  upstanding  as  a  candle  in  a  stick.  And 
by  way  of  thanks  we  hooded  the  top  with  zinc. 

While  I  was  at  work  on  the  hood,  I  got  Grindhusen 
to  suggest  that  the  post  should  be  painted  red  ;  he  had 
still  a  trifle  of  red  paint  left  over  from  the  work  at 
Gunhild's  cottage.  But  the  priest  wanted  it  white, 
and  Grindhusen  was  afraid  to  contradict,  and  carefully 
agreed  to  all  he  said,  until  at  last  I  put  in  a  word,  and 
said  that  notices  on  white  paper  would  show  up  better 
against  red.  At  that  the  priest  smiled,  with  the  endless 
wrinkles  round  his  eyes,  and  said :  "  Yes,  yes,  of  course, 
you're  quite  right." 

And  that  was  enough  ;  just  that  bit  of  a  smile  and 
saying  I  was  right  made  me  all  glad  and  proud  again 
within. 

Then  Frokenen  came  up,  and  said  a  few  words  to 
Grindhusen  ;  even  jested  with  him,  asking  what  that 
red  cardinal  was  to  be  stuck  up  there  for  on  the  road. 
But  to  me  she  said  nothing  at  all,  and  did  not  even 
look  at  me  when  I  took  off  my  hat. 

Dinner  was  a  sore  trial  to  me  that  day,  not  that  the 
food  was  bad,  no,  but  Grindhusen,  he  ate  his  soup  in  a 
disgusting  fashion,  and  his  mouth  was  all  greasy  with 
fat. 

"  What'll  he  be  like  when  it  comes  to  eating  por- 
ridge ?  "  I  thought  to  myself  hysterically. 

Then  when  he  leaned  back  on  the  bench  to  rest 
after  his  meal  in  the  same  greasy  state,  I  called  to 
him  straight  out : 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  man,  aren't  you  going  to  wipe 
your  mouth  ?  " 


I4  WANDERERS 

He  stared  at  me,  wiping  his  mouth  with  one  hand. 
"  Mouth?"  he  said. 

I  tried  to  turn  it  off  then  as  a  joke,  and  said :  "  Haha, 
I  had  you  there  !  "  But  I  was  displeased  with  myself,  for 
all  that,  and  went  out  of  the  brewhouse  directly  after. 

Then  I  fell  to  thinking  of  Frokenen.  "I'll  make  her 
answer  when  I  give  a  greeting,"  I  said  to  myself. 
"  I'll  let  her  see  before  very  long  that  I'm  not  altogether 
a  fool."  There  was  that  business  of  the  well  and  the 
pipe-line,  now  ;  what  if  I  were  to  work  out  a  plan  for 
the  whole  installation  all  complete  !  I  had  no  instru- 
ments to  take  the  height  and  fall  of  the  hill  .  .  .  well, 
I  could  make  one  that  would  serve.  And  I  set  to  work. 
A  wooden  tube,  with  two  ordinary  lamp-glasses  fixed 
in  with  putty,  and  the  whole  filled  with  water. 

Soon  it  was  found  there  were  many  little  things 
needed  seeing  to  about  the  vicarage — odd  matters  here 
and  there.  A  stone  step  to  be  set  straight  again,  a 
wall  to  be  repaired  ;  the  bridgeway  to  the  barn  had  to 
be  strengthened  before  the  corn  could  be  brought  in. 
The  priest  liked  to  have  everything  sound  and  in  order 
about  the  place — and  it  was  all  one  to  us,  seeing  we 
were  paid  by  the  day.  But  as  time  went  on  I  grew 
more  and  more  impatient  of  my  work-mate's  company. 
It  was  torture  to  me,  for  instance,  to  see  him  pick  up 
the  loaf  from  the  table,  hold  it  close  in  to  his  chest,  and 
cut  off  a  slice  with  a  greasy  pocket-knife  that  he  was 
always  putting  in  his  mouth.  And  then,  again,  he 
would  go  all  through  the  week,  from  Sunday  to  Sunday, 
without  a  wash.  And  in  the  morning,  before  the  sun 
was  up,  and  the  evening,  after  it  had  gone,  there  was 
always  a  shiny  drop  hanging  from  the  tip  of  his  nose. 
And  then  his  nails  !  And  as  for  his  ears,  they  were 
simply  deformed. 

Alas !  I  was  an  upstart  creature,  that  had  learned 
fine  manners  in  the  cafes  in  town.  And  since  I  could 


WANDERERS  1 5 

not  keep  myself  from  telling  my  companion  now  and 
then  what  I  thought  of  his  uncleanly  ways,  there  grew 
up  a  certain  ill-feeling  between  us,  and  I  feared  we 
should  have  to  separate  before  long.  As  it  was,  we 
hardly  spoke  now  beyond  what  was  needed. 

And  there  was  the  well,  as  undug  as  ever.  Sunday 
came,  and  Grindhusen  had  gone  home. 

I  had  got  my  apparatus  finished  now,  and  in  the 
afternoon  I  climbed  up  to  the  roof  of  the  main  building 
and  set  it  up  there.  I  saw  at  once  that  the  sight  cut 
the  hillside  several  metres  below  the  top.  Good.  Even 
reckoning  a  whole  metre  down  to  the  water-level,  there 
would'still  be  pressure  enough  and  to  spare. 

While  I  was  busy  up  there  the  priest's  son  caught 
sight  of  me.  Harald  Meltzer  was  his  name.  And  what 
was  I  doing  up  there  ?  Measuring  the  hill ;  what  for  ? 
What  did  I  want  to  know  the  height  for  ?  Would  I 
let  him  try? 

Later  on  I  got  hold  of  a  line  ten  metres  long,  and 
measured  the  hill  from  foot  to  summit,  with  Harald  to 
help.  When  we  came  down  to  the  house,  I  asked  to 
see  the  priest  himself,  and  told  him  of  my  plan. 

VI 

The  priest  listened  patiently,  and  did  not  reject  the 
idea  at  once. 

"Really,  now!"  he  said,  with  a  smile.  "Why, 
perhaps  you're  right.  But  it  will  cost  a  lot  of  money. 
And  why  should  we  trouble  about  it  at  all  ?  " 

"It's  seventy  paces  from  the  house  to  the  well  we 
started  to  dig,  Seventy  steps  for  the  maids  to  go 
through  mud  and  snow  and  all  sorts,  summer  and 
winter." 

"That's  true,  yes.  But  this  other  way  would  cost  a 
terrible  lot  of  money." 


1 6  WANDERERS 

"Not  counting  the  well — that  you'll  have  to  have 
in  any  case ;  the  whole  installation,  with  work  and 
material,  ought  not  to  come  to  more  than  a  couple  of 
hundred  Kroner,"  said  I. 

The  priest  looked  surprised. 

"Is  that  all?" 

"Yes." 

1  waited  a  little  each  time  before  answering,  as  if  I 
were  slow  by  nature,  and  born  so.  But,  really,  I  had 
thought  out  the  whole  thing  beforehand. 

"  It  would  be  a  great  convenience,  that's  true,"  said 
the  priest  thoughtfully.  "And  that  water-tub  in  the 
kitchen  does  make  a  lot  of  mess." 

"And  it  will  save  carrying  water  to  the  bedrooms 
as  well." 

"The  bedrooms  are  all  upstairs.  It  won't  help  us 
there,  I'm  afraid." 

"  We  can  run  the  pipes  up  to  the  first  floor." 

"Can  we,  though?  Up  to  the  bedrooms?  Will 
there  be  pressure  enough  for  that,  do  you  think?" 

Here  I  waited  longer  than  usual  before  answering, 
as  a  stolid  fellow,  who  did  not  undertake  things 
lightly. 

"  I  think  I  can  answer  for  a  jet  the  height  of  the 
roof,"  I  said. 

"Really,  now!"  exclaimed  the  priest.  And  then 
again:  "Come  and  let  us  see  where  you  think  of 
digging  the  well." 

We  went  up  the  hill,  the  priest,  Harald,  and  I,  and 
I  let  the  priest  look  through  my  instrument,  and  showed 
him  that  there  would  be  more  than  pressure  enough. 

"  I  must  talk  to  the  other  man  about  it,"  he  said. 

But  I  cut  out  Grindhusen  at  once,  and  said  :  "  Grind- 
husen?  He's  no  idea  of  this  work  at  all." 

The  priest  looked  at  me. 

"Really?"  he  said. 


WANDERERS  i 7 

Then  we  went  down  again,  the  priest  talking  as  if  to 
himself. 

"  Quite  right  ;  yes.  It's  an  endless  business  fetching 
water  in  the  winter.  And  summer,  too,  for  that  matter. 
I  must  see  what  the  women  think  about  it." 

And  he  went  indoors. 

After  ten  minutes  or  so,  I  was  sent  for  round  to  the 
front  steps  ;  the  whole  family  were  there  now. 

"So  you're  the  man  who's  going  to  give  us  water 
laid  on  to  the  house?"  said  Fruen  kindly. 

I  took  off  my  cap  and  bowed  in  a  heavy,  stolid 
fashion,  and  the  priest  answered  for  me  :  yes,  this  was 
the  man. 

Fr0kenen  gave  me  one  curious  glance,  and  then 
started  talking  in  an  undertone  to  her  brother.  Fruen 
went  on  with  more  questions — would  it  really  be  a 
proper  water-supply  like  they  had  in  town,  just  turn  on 
a  tap  and  there  was  the  water  all  ready?  And  for 
upstairs  as  well?  A  couple  of  hundred  Kroner? 
"Really,  I  think  you  ought  to  say  yes,"  she  said  to 
her  husband. 

"You  think  so?  Well,  let's  all  go  up  to  the  top  of 
the  hill  and  look  through  the  thing  and  see." 

We  went  up  the  hill,  and  I  set  the  instrument  for 
them  and  let  them  look. 

"Wonderful!  "  said  Fruen. 

But  Frokenen  said  never  a  word. 

The  priest  asked : 

"  But  are  you  sure  there's  water  here  ?  " 

I  answered  carefully,  as  a  man  of  sober  judgment, 
that  it  was  not  a  thing  to  swear  to  beforehand,  but 
there  was  every  sign  of  it. 

"  What  sort  of  signs  ?  "  asked  Fruen. 

"  The  nature  of  the  ground.  And  you'll  notice  there's 
willow  and  osiers  growing  about.  And  they  like  a 
wet  soil." 

2 


1 8  WANDERERS 

The  priest  nodded,  and  said  : 

."  He  knows  his  business,  Marie,  you  can  see." 

On  the  way  back,  Fruen  had  got  so  far  as  to  argue 
quite  unwarrantably  that  she  could  manage  with  one 
maid  less  once  they'd  water  laid  on.  And  not  to  fail 
her,  I  put  in  : 

"  In  summer  at  least  you  might.  You  could  water 
all  the  garden  with  a  hose  fixed  to  the  tap  and  carried 
out  through  the  cellar  window." 

"  Splendid  !  "  she  exclaimed. 

But  I  did  not  venture  to  speak  of  laying  a  pipe  to  the 
cowshed.  I  had  realised  all  the  time  that  with  a  well 
twice  the  size,  and  a  branch  pipe  across  the  yard,  the 
dairymaid  would  be  saved  as  much  as  the  kitchen-maids 
in  the  house.  But  it  would  cost  nearly  twice  as  much. 
No,  it  was  not  wise  to  put  forward  so  great  a  scheme. 

Even  as  it  was,  I  had  to  agree  to  wait  till  Grindhusen 
came  back.  The  priest  said  he  wanted  to  sleep  on  it. 

VII 

So  now  I  had  to  tell  Grindhusen  myself,  and  prepare 
him  for  the  new  arrangement.  And  lest  he  should  turn 
suspicious,  I  threw  all  the  blame  on  the  priest,  saying 
it  was  his  idea,  but  that  I  had  backed  him  up.  Grind- 
husen had  no  objection  ;  he  saw  at  once  it  meant  more 
work  for  us,  since  we  should  have  the  well  to  dig  in 
any  case,  and  the  bed  for  the  pipes  besides. 

As  luck  would  have  it,  the  priest  came  out  on 
Monday  morning,  and  said  to  Grindhusen  half  jestingly  : 

"Your  mate  here  and  I  have  decided  to  have  the  well 
up  on  the  hill,  and  lay  down  a  pipe-line  to  the  house. 
What  do  you  think  of  it  ?  A  mad  idea  ?  " 

Grindhusen  thought  it  was  a  first-rate  idea. 

But  when  we  came  to  talk  it  over,  and  went  up  all 
three  to  look  at  the  site  of  the  well,  Grindhusen  began 


WANDERERS  19 

to  suspect  I'd  had  more  to  do  with  it  than  I  had  said. 
We  should  have  to  lay  the  pipes  deep  down,  he  said,  on 
account  of  the  frost.  .  .  . 

"  One  metre  thirty's  plenty,"  I  said. 

.  .  .  and  that  it  would  cost  a  great  deal  of  money. 

"Your  mate  here  said  about  a  couple  of  hundred 
Kroner  in  all,"  answered  the  priest. 

Grindhusen  had  no  idea  of  estimates  at  all,  and  could 
only  say : 

"  Well,  well,  two  hundred  Kroner's  a  deal  of  money, 
anyway." 

I  said  : 

"  It  will  mean  so  much  less  in  Aabot  when  you  move." 

The  priest  looked  at  me  in  surprise. 

"Aabot?  But  I'm  not  thinking  of  leaving  the  place," 
he  said. 

"  Why,  then,  you'll  have  the  full  use  of  it.  And  may 
your  reverence  live  to  enjoy  it  for  many  a  year,"  said  I. 

At  this  the  priest  stared  at  me,  and  asked : 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  " 

"Knut  Pedersen." 

"  Where  are  you  from  ?  " 

"From  Nordland." 

But  I  understood  why  he  had  asked,  and  resolved 
not  to  talk  in  that  bookish  way  any  more. 

Anyhow,  the  well  and  the  pipe-line  were  decided  on, 
and  we  set  to  work.  .  .  . 

The  days  that  followed  were  pleasant  enough.  I 
was  not  a  little  anxious  at  first  as  to  whether  we  should 
find  water  on  the  site,  and  I  slept  badly  for  some  nights. 
But  once  that  fear  was  past,  all  that  remained  was 
simple  and  straightforward  work.  There  was  water 
enough  ;  after  a  couple  of  days  we  had  to  bale  it  out 
with  buckets  every  morning.  It  was  clay  lower  down, 
and  our  clothes  were  soon  in  a  sorry  state  from  the 
work. 


20  WANDERERS 

We  dug  for  a  week,  and  started  the  next  getting  out 
stones  to  line  the  well..  This  was  work  we  were  both 
used  to  from  the  old  days  at  Skreia.  Then  we  put  in 
another  week  digging,  and  by  that  time  we  had  carried 
it  deep  enough.  The  bottom  was  soon  so  soft  that  we 
had  to  begin  on  the  stonework  at  once,  lest  the  clay 
walls  should  cave  in  on  top  of  us. 

So  week  after  week  passed,  with  digging  and  mining 
and  mason's  work.  It  was  a  big  well,  and  made  a  nice 
job  ;  the  priest  was  pleased  with  it.  Grindhusen  and  I 
began  to  get  on  better  together  ;  and  when  he  found 
that  I  asked  no  more  than  a  fair  labourer's  wage, 
though  much  of  the  work  was  done  under  my  directions, 
he  was  inclined  to  do  something  for  me  in  return,  and 
took  more  care  about  his  table  manners.  Altogether, 
I  could  not  have  wished  for  a  happier  time  ;  and  nothing 
on  earth  should  ever  persuade  me  to  go  back  to  town 
life  again  ! 

In  the  evenings  I  wandered  about  the  woods,  or  in 
the  churchyard  reading  the  inscriptions  on  the  tomb- 
stones, and  thinking  of  this  and  that.  Also,  I  was 
looking  about  for  a  nail  from  some  corpse.  I  wanted 
a  nail  ;  it  was  a  fancy  of  mine,  a  little  whim.  I  had 
found  a  nice  piece  of  birch-root  that  I  wanted  to  carve 
to  a  pipe-bowl  in  the  shape  of  a  clenched  fist ;  the 
thumb  was  to  act  as  a  lid,  and  I  wanted  a  nail  to  set 
in,  to  make  it  specially  lifelike.  The  ring  finger  was  to 
have  a  little  gold  ring  bent  round. 

Thinking  of  such  trifles  kept  my  mind  calm  and  at 
ease.  There  was  no  hurry  now  for  me  about  anything 
in  life.  I  could  dream  as  I  pleased,  having  nothing 
else  to  do ;  the  evenings  were  my  own.  If  possible, 
too,  I  would  see  and  arrive  at  some  feeling  of  respect 
for  the  sacredness  of  the  church  and  terror  of  the  dead  ; 
I  had  still  a  memory  of  that  rich  mysticism  from  days 
now  far,  far  behind,  and  wished  I  could  have  some 


WANDERERS  2 1 

share  in  it  again.  Now,  perhaps,  when  I  found  that 
nail,  there  would  come  a  voice  from  the  tombs  :  "  That 
is  mine !  "  and  I  would  drop  the  thing  in  horror,  and 
take  to  my  heels  and  run. 

/'I  wish  that  vane  up  there  wouldn't  creak  so," 
Grindhusen  would  say  at  times. 

"  Are  you  afraid  ?  " 

"  Well,  not  properly  afraid  ;  no.  But  it  gives  you  a 
creeping  feeling  now  and  then  to  think  of  all  the  corpses 
lying  there  so  near." 

Happy  man  ! 

One  day  Harald  showed  me  how  to  plant  pine  cones 
and  little  bushes.  I'd  no  idea  of  that  sort  of  work 
before ;  we  didn't  learn  it  in  the  days  when  I  was  at 
school.  But  now  I'd  seen  the  way  of  it,  I  went  about 
planting  busily  on  Sundays  ;  and,  in  return,  I  taught 
Harald  one  or  two  little  things  that  were  new  to  him  at 
his  age,  and  got  to  be  friends  with  him. 

VIII 

And  all  might  have  been  well  if  it  had  not  been  for 
Frokenen,  the  daughter  of  the  house.  I  grew  fonder 
of  her  every  day.  Her  name  was  Elischeba,  Elisabeth. 
No  remarkable  beauty,  perhaps  ;  but  she  had  red  lips, 
and  a  blue,  girlish  glance  that  made  her  pretty  to  see. 
Elischeba,  Elisabeth — a  child  at  the  first  dawn  of  life, 
with  eyes  looking  out  upon  the  world.  She  spoke  one 
evening  with  young  Erik  from  the  neighbouring  guard, 
and  her  eyes  were  full  of  sweetness  and  of  something 
ripening. 

It  was  all  very  well  for  Grindhusen.  He  had  gone 
ravening  after  the  girls  when  he  was  young,  and  he 
still  spanked  about  with  his  hat  on  one  side,  out  of 
habit.  But  he  was  quiet  and  tame  enough  now,  as 
well  he  might  be — 'tis  nature's  way.  But  some  there 


22  WANDERERS 

are  who  would  not  follow  nature's  way,  and  be  tamed  ; 
and  how  shall  it  fare  with  them  at  last?  And  then 
there  was  little  Elisabeth  ;  and  she  was  none  so  little 
after  all,  but  as  tall  as  her  mother.  And  she'd  her 
mother's  high  breast.  .  .  . 

Since  that  first  Sunday  they  had  not  asked  me  in  to 
coffee  in  the  kitchen,  and  I  took  care  myself  they 
should  not,  but  kept  out  of  the  way.  I  was  still 
ashamed  of  the  recollection.  But  then,  at  last,  in  the 
middle  of  the  week,  one  of  the  maids  came  with  a 
message  that  I  was  not  to  go  running  off  into  the 
woods  every  Sunday  afternoon,  but  come  to  coffee  with 
the  rest.  Fruen  herself  had  said  so. 

Good! 

Now,  should  I  put  on  my  best  clothes  or  not?  No 
harm,  perhaps,  in  letting  that  young  lady  get  into  her 
head  that  I  was  one  who  had  chosen  to  turn  my  back 
upon  the  life  of  cities,  and  take  upon  myself  the  guise 
of  a  servant,  for  all  I  was  a  man  of  parts,  that  could 
lay  on  water  to  a  house.  But  when  I  had  dressed,  I 
felt  myself  that  my  working  clothes  were  better  suited 
to  me  now  ;  I  took  off  my  best  things  again,  and  hid 
them  carefully  in  my  bag. 

But,  as  it  happened,  it  was  not  Frokenen  at  all  who 
received  me  on  that  Sunday  afternoon,  but  Fruen. 
She  talked  to  me  for  quite  a  while,  and  she  had  spread 
a  little  white  cloth  under  my  cup. 

"  That  trick  of  yours  with  the  egg  is  likely  to  cost  us 
something  before  we've  done  with  it,"  said  Fruen,  with 
a  kindly  laugh.  "The  boy's  used  up  half  a  dozen  eggs 
already." 

I  had  taught  Harald  the  trick  of  passing  a  hard- 
boiled  egg  with  the  shell  off  through  the  neck  of  a 
decanter,  by  thinning  the  air  inside.  It  was  about  the 
only  experiment  in  physics  that  I  knew. 

"But  that  one  with  breaking  the  stick  in  the  two 


WANDERERS  23 

paper  loops  was  really  interesting,"  Fruen  went  on. 
"  I  don't  understand  that  sort  of  thing  myself,  but  .  .  . 
When  will  the  well  be  done  ?  " 

"The  well  is  done.  We're  going  to  start  on  the 
trench  to-morrow." 

"And  how  long  will  that  take  to  do?" 

"About  a  week.  Then  the  man  can  come  and  lay 
the  pipes." 

"No!  really?" 

I  said  my  thanks  and  went  out.  Fruen  had  a  way 
she  had  kept,  no  doubt,  from  earlier  years  ;  now  and 
again  she  would  glance  at  one  sideways,  though  there 
was  nothing  the  least  bit  artful  in  what  she  said.  .  .  . 

Now  the  woods  showed  a  yellowing  leaf  here  and 
there,  and  earth  and  air  began  to  smell  of  autumn. 
Only  the  fungus  growths  were  now  at  their  best, 
shooting  up  everywhere,  and  flourishing  fine  and  thick 
on  woolly  stems — milk  mushrooms,  and  the  common 
sort,  and  the  brown.  Here  and  there  a  toadstool 
thrust  up  its  speckled  top,  flaming  its  red  all  unashamed. 
A  wonderful  thing!  Here  it  is  growing  on  the  same 
spot  as  the  edible  sorts,  fed  by  the  same  soil,  given  sun 
and  rain  from  heaven  the  same  as  they  ;  rich  and  lirm 
it  is,  and  good  to  eat,  save,  only,  that  it  is  full  ot 
impertinent  muscarin.  I  once  thought  of  making  up  a 
fine  old  story  about  the  toadstool,  and  saying  I  had 
read  it  in  a  book. 

It  has  always  been  a  pleasure  to  me  to  watch  the 
flowers  and  insects  in  their  struggle  to  keep  alive. 
When  the  sun  was  hot  they  would  come  to  life  again, 
and  give  themselves  up  for  an  hour  or  so  to  the  old 
delight ;  the  big,  strong  flies  were  just  as  much  alive 
as  in  midsummer.  There  was  a  peculiar  sort  of  earth- 
bug  here  that  I  had  not  seen  before — little  yellow 
things,  no  bigger  than  a  small-type  comma,  yet  they 
could  jump  several  thousand  times  their  own  length. 


24  WANDERERS 

Think  of  the  strength  of  such  a  body  in  proportion  to 
its  size  !  There  is  a  tiny  spider  here  with  its  hinder 
part  like  a  pale  yellow  pearl.  And  the  pearl  is  so  heavy 
that  the  creature  has  to  clamber  up  a  stalk  of  grass 
back  downwards.  When  it  comes  upon  an  obstacle 
the  pearl  cannot  pass,  it  simply  drops  straight  down 
and  starts  to  climb  another.  Now,  a  little  pearl-spider 
like  that  is  not  just  a  spider  and  no  more.  If  I  hold 
out  a  leaf  towards  it  to  help  it  to  its  footing  on  a  floor, 
it  fumbles  about  for  a  while  on  the  leaf,  and  thinks  to 
itself:  "  H'm,  something  wrong  about  this  !  "  and  backs 
away  again,  refusing  to  be  in  any  way  entrapped  on  to 
a  floor.  .  .  . 

Someone  calls  me  by  name  from  down  in  the  wood. 
It  is  Harald  ;  he  has  started  a  Sunday  school  with  me. 
He  gave  me  a  lesson  out  of  Pontoppidan  to  learn,  and 
now  I'm  to  be  heard.  It  is  touching  to  be  taught 
religion  now  as  I  should  have  taught  it  myself  when  I 
was  a  child. 

IX 

The  well  was  finished,  the  trench  was  dug,  and  the 
man  had  come  to  lay  the  pipes.  He  chose  Grindhusen 
to  help  him  with  the  work,  and  I  was  set  to  cutting  a 
way  for  the  pipes  up  from  the  cellar  through  the  two 
floors  of  the  house. 

Fruen  came  down  one  day  when  I  was  busy  in  the 
cellar.  I  called  out  to  her  to  mind  the  hole  in  the  floor  ; 
but  she  took  it  very  calmly. 

"There's  no  hole  there,  now,  is  there?"  she  asked, 
pointing  one  way.  "Or  there?"  But  at  last  she 
missed  her  footing  after  all,  and  slipped  down  into  the 
hole  where  I  was.  And  there  we  stood.  It  was  not 
light  there  anyway  ;  and  for  her,  coming  straight  in 
from  the  daylight  outside,  it  must  have  seemed  quite 
dark.  She  felt  about  the  edge,  and  said  : 


WANDERERS  25 

"Now,  how  am  I  to  get  up  again? " 

I  lifted  her  up.  It  was  no  matter  to  speak  of ;  she 
was  slight  of  figure,  for  all  she  had  a  big  girl  of  her 
own. 

"Well,  I  must  say  .  .  ."  She  stood  shaking  the 
earth  from  her  dress.  "  One,  two,  three,  and  up  ! — as 
neatly  as  could  be.  .  .  .  Look  here,  I'd  like  you  to 
help  me  with  something  upstairs  one  day,  will  you  ?  I 
want  to  move  some  things.  Only  we  must  wait  till  a 
day  when  my  husband's  over  at  the  annexe  ;  he  doesn't 
like  my  changing  things  about.  How  long  will  it  be 
before  you've  finished  all  there  is  to  do  here  ?  " 

I  mentioned  a  time,  a  week  or  thereabout. 

"  And  where  are  you  going  then  ?  " 

"To  the  farm  just  by.  Grindhusen's  fixed  it  up  for 
us  to  go  and  dig  potatoes  there.  ..." 

Then  came  the  work  in  the  kitchen  ;  I  had  to  saw 
through  the  floor  there.  Froken  Elisabeth  came  in 
once  or  twice  while  I  was  there  ;  it  could  hardly  have 
been  otherwise,  seeing  it  was  the  kitchen.  And  for  all 
her  dislike  of  me,  she  managed  to  say  a  word  or  two, 
and  stand  looking  at  the  work  a  little. 

"Only  fancy,  Oline,"  she  said  to  the  maid,  "when 
it's  all  done,  and  you'll  only  have  to  turn  on  a  tap." 

But  Oline,  who  was  old,  did  not  look  anyways 
delighted.  It  was  like  going  against  Providence,  she 
said,  to  go  sending  water  through  a  pipe  right  into  the 
house.  She'd  carried  all  the  water  she'd  a  use  for  these 
twenty  years  ;  what  was  she  to  do  now  ? 

"  Take  a  rest,"  said  I. 

"  Rest,  indeed  !  We're  made  to  work,  I  take  it,  not 
to  rest." 

"And  sew  things  against  the  time  you  get  married," 
said  Froken  Elisabeth,  with  a  smile. 

It  was  only  girlish  talk,  but  I  was  grateful  to  her  for 
taking  a  little  part  in  the  talk  with  us,  and  staying 


26  WANDERERS 

there  for  a  while.  And  heavens,  how  I  did  try  to 
behave,  and  talk  smartly  and  sensibly,  showing  off  like 
a  boy.  I  remember  it  still.  Then  suddenly  Froken 
Elisabeth  seemed  to  remember  it  wasn't  proper  for  her 
to  stay  out  here  with  us  any  longer,  and  so  she  went. 

That  evening  I  went  up  to  the  churchyard,  as  I 
had  done  so  many  times  before,  but  seeing  Frokenen 
already  there,  I  turned  away,  and  took  myself  off  into 
the  woods.  And  afterwards  I  thought :  now  she  will 
surely  be  touched  by  my  humility,  and  think :  poor 
fellow,  he  showed  real  delicacy  in  that.  And  the  next 
thing,  of  course,  was  to  imagine  her  coming  after  me. 
I  would  get  up  from  the  stone  where  I  was  sitting,  and 
give  a  greeting.  Then  she  would  be  a  little  embar- 
rassed, and  say:  "I  was  just  going  for  a  walk — it's 
such  a  lovely  evening — what  are  you  doing  here  ?  " 
"Just  sitting  here,"  say  I,  with  innocent  eyes,  as  if 
my  thoughts  had  been  far  away.  And  when  she  hears 
that  I  was  just  sitting  there  in  the  late  of  the  even- 
ing, she  must  realise  that  I  am  a  dreamer  and  a  soul 
of  unknown  depth,  and  then  she  falls  in  love  with 
me.  .  .  . 

She  was  in  the  churchyard  again  the  following  even- 
ing, and  a  thought  of  high  conceit  flew  suddenly  into 
my  mind  :  it  was  myself  she  came  to  see  !  But,  watch- 
ing her  more  closely,  I  saw  that  she  was  busy,  doing 
something  about  a  grave,  so  it  was  not  me  she  had 
come  for.  I  stole  away  up  to  the  big  ant-heap  in  the 
wood  and  watched  the  insects  as  long  as  I  could  see  ; 
afterwards,  I  sat  listening  to  the  falling  cones  and 
clusters  of  rowan  berries.  I  hummed  a  tune,  and 
whispered  to  myself  and  thought ;  now  and  again  I  had 
to  get  up  and  walk  a  little  to  get  warm.  The  hours 
passed,  the  night  came  on,  and  I  was  so  in  love  I 
walked  there  bare-headed,  letting  myself  be  stared  out 
of  all  countenance  by  the  stars. 


WANDERERS  27 

"  How's  the  time?"  Grindhus"en  might  ask  when  I 
came  back  to  the  barn. 

"Just  gone  eleven,"  I  would  say,  though  it  might 
be  two  or  three  in  the  morning. 

"Huh!  And  a  nice  time  to  be  coming  to  bed. 
Fansmagt!  Waking  folk  up  when  they've  been  sleep- 
ing decently !  " 

And  Grindhusen  turns  over  on  the  other  side,  to  fall 
asleep  again  in  a  moment.  There  was  no  trouble  with 
Grindhusen. 

Eyah,  it's  over-foolish  of  a  man  to  fall  in  love  when 
he's  getting  on  in  years.  And  who  was  it  set  out  to 
show  there  was  a  way  to  quiet  and  peace  of  mind  ? 

X 

A  man  came  out  for  his  bricklayer's  tools  ;  he  wanted 
them  back.  What?  Then  Grindhusen  had  not  stolen 
them  at  all !  But  it  was  always  the  same  with  Grind- 
husen :  commonplace,  dull,  and  ordinary,  never  great 
in  anything,  never  a  lofty  mind. 

I  said : 

"You,  Grindhusen,  there's  nothing  in  you  but  eat 
and  sleep  and  work.  Here's  a  man  come  for  those 
tools  now.  So  you  only  borrowed  them  ;  that's  all 
you're  good  for.  I  wouldn't  be  you  for  anything." 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,"  said  Grindhusen. 

He  was  offended  now,  but  I  got  him  round  again,  as 
I  had  done  so  many  times  before,  by  pretending  I  had 
only  spoken  in  jest. 

"What  are  we  to  do  now?"  he  asked. 

"  You'll  manage  it  all  right,"  said  I. 

"Manage  it— will  I?" 

"Yes,  or  I  am  much  mistaken." 

And  Grindhusen  was  pacified  once  more. 

But  at  the  midday  rest,  when  I  was  cutting  his  hair, 


28  WANDERERS 

I  put  him  out  of  temper  once  again  by  suggesting  he 
should  wash  his  head. 

"A  man  of  your  age  ought  to  know  better  than  to 
talk  such  stuff,"  he  said. 

And  Heaven  knows  but  he  may  have  been  right. 
His  red  thatch  of  hair  was  thick  as  ever,  for  all  he'd 
grandchildren  of  his  own.  .  .  . 

Now  what  was  coming  to  that  barn  of  ours  ?  Were 
spirits  about  ?  Who  had  been  in  there  one  day  suddenly 
and  cleaned  the  place  and  made  all  comfortable  and 
neat  ?  Grindhusen  and  I  had  each  our  own  bedplace  ; 
I  had  bought  a  couple  of  rugs,  but  he  turned  in  every 
night  fully  dressed,  with  all  he  stood  up  in,  and  curled 
himself  up  in  the  hay  all  anyhow.  And  now  here  were 
my  two  rugs  laid  neatly,  looking  for  all  the  world  like 
a  bed.  I'd  nothing  against  it ;  'twas  one  of  the  maids, 
no  doubt,  setting  to  teach  me  neat  and  orderly  ways. 
'Twas  all  one  to  me. 

I  was  ready  now  to  start  cutting  through  the  floor 
upstairs,  but  Fruen  begged  me  to  leave  it  to  next 
day  ;  her  husband  would  be  going  over  to  the  annexe, 
and  that  way  I  shouldn't  disturb  him.  But  next  morn- 
ing we  had  to  put  it  off  again  ;  Froken  Elisabeth  was 
going  in  to  the  store  to  buy  no  end  of  things,  and  I  was 
to  go  with  her  and  carry  them. 

"Good,"  said  I,  "  I'll  come  on  after." 

Strange  girl  !  had  she  thought  to  put  up  with  my 
company  on  the  way  ?  She  said  : 

"  But  do  you  think  you  can  find  the  way  alone?  " 

"  Surely  ;  I've  been  there  before.  It's  where  we  buy 
our  things." 

Now,  I  couldn't  well  walk  through  all  the  village  in 
my  working  things  all  messed  up  with  clay :  I  put  on 
my  best  trousers,  but  kept  my  blouse  on  over.  So  I 
walked  on  behind.  It  was  a  couple  of  miles  or  more  ; 
the  last  part  of  the  way  I  caught  sight  of  Froken 


WANDERERS  29 

Elisabeth  on  ahead  now  and  again,  but  I  took  care  not 
to  come  up  close.  Once  she  looked  round,  and  at  that 
I  made  myself  utterly  small,  and  kept  to  the  fringe  of 
the  wood. 

Fr0ken  Elisabeth  stayed  behind  with  some  girl  friend 
after  she  had  done  her  shopping  ;  I  carried  the  things 
back  to  the  vicarage,  getting  in  about  noon,  and  was 
asked  in  to  dinner  in  the  kitchen.  The  house  seemed 
deserted.  Harald  was  away,  the  maids  were  wringing 
clothes,  only  Oline  was  busy  in  the  kitchen. 

After  dinner,  I  went  upstairs,  and  started  sawing  in 
the  passage. 

"Come  and  lend  me  a  hand  here,  will  you?"  said 
Fruen,  walking  on  in  front  of  me. 

We  passed  by  her  husband's  study  and  into  the 
bedroom. 

"I  want  my  bed  moved,"  said  Fruen.  "It's  too 
near  the  stove  in  winter,  and  I  can't  stand  the  heat." 

We  moved  the  bed  over  to  the  window. 

"  It'll  be  nicer  here,  don't  you  think?  Cooler,"  said 
she. 

And,  happening  to  glance  at  her,  I  saw  she  was 
watching  me  with  that  queer,  sideways  look.  .  .  .  Ey 
.  .  .  And  in  a  moment  I  was  all  flesh  and  blood  and 
foolishness.  I  heard  her  say  : 

"Are  you  mad? — Oh  no,  dear,  please  .  .  .  the 
door  .  .  ." 

Then  I  heard  my  name  whispered  again  and  again.  . .  . 

I  sawed  through  the  floor  in  the  passage,  and  got 
everything  done.  Fruen  was  there  all  the  time.  She 
was  so  eager  to  talk,  to  explain,  and  laughing  and 
crying  all  the  time. 

I  said: 

"That  picture  that  was  hanging  over  your  bed — 
wouldn't  it  be  as  well  to  move  that  too  ?  " 

"  Ye — es,  perhaps  it  would,"  said  Fruen. 


30  WANDERERS 

XI 

Now  all  the  pipes  were  laid,  and  the  taps  fixed  ;  the 
water  spurted  out  in  the  sink  in  a  fine,  powerful  jet. 
Grindhusen  had  borrowed  the  tools  we  needed  from 
somewhere  else,  so  we  could  plaster  up  a  few  holes  left 
here  and  there  ;  a  couple  of  days  more,  and  we  had 
filled  in  the  trench  down  the  hillside,  and  our  work  at 
the  vicaragfe  was  done.  The  priest  was  pleased  with 
us  ;  he  offered  to  stick  up  a  notice  on  the  red  post 
saying  we  were  experts  in  the  business  of  wells  and 
pipes  and  water-supply,  but,  seeing  it  was  so  late  in 
the  year,  and  the  frost  might  set  in  any  time,  it  wouldn't 
have  helped  us  much.  We  begged  him  instead  to  bear 
us  in  mind  next  spring. 

Then  we  went  over  to  the  neighbouring  farm  to  dig 
potatoes,  promising  to  look  in  at  the  vicarage  again 
some  time. 

There  were  many  hands  at  work  on  the  new  place  ; 
we  divided  up  into  gangs  and  were  merry  enough. 
But  the  work  would  barely  last  over  a  week  ;  after 
that  we  should  have  to  shift  again. 

One  evening  the  priest  came  over  and  offered  to  take 
me  on  as  an  outdoor  hand  at  the  vicarage.  It  was  a 
nice  offer,  and  I  thought  about  it  for  a  while,  but 
ended  by  saying  no.  I  would  rather  wander  about  and 
be  my  own  master,  doing  such  work  as  I  could  find 
here  and  there,  sleeping  in  the  open,  and  finding  a 
trifle  to  wonder  at  in  myself.  I  had  come  across  a 
man  here  in  the  potato  fields  that  I  might  join  com- 
pany with  when  Grindhusen  was  gone.  This  new  man 
was  a  fellow  after  my  own  mind,  and  from  what  I  had 
heard  and  seen  of  him  a  good  worker  ;  Lars  Falkberget 
was  his  name,  wherefore  he  called  himself  Falkenberg.1 

1  The  latter  name  has  a  more  distinguished  sound  than  the 
native  and  rustic  "Falkberget." 


WANDERERS  3 1 

Young  Erik  was  foreman  and  overseer  in  charge  of 
the  potato  diggers,  and  carted  in  the  crop.  He  was  a 
handsome  lad  of  twenty,  steady  and  sound  for  his  age, 
and  a  proper  son  of  the  house.  There  was  something 
no  doubt  between  him  and  Froken  Elisabeth  from 
the  vicarage,  seeing  she  came  over  one  day  and 
stood  talking  with  him  out  in  the  fields  for  quite 
a  while.  When  she  was  leaving,  she  found  a  few 
words  for  me  as  well,  saying  Oline  was  beginning 
to  get  used  to  the  new  contrivances  of  water-pipes 
and  tap. 

"And  yourself?"  I  asked. 

Out  of  politeness,  she  made  some  little  answer  to 
this  also,  but  I  could  see  she  had  no  wish  to  stay 
talking  to  me. 

So  prettily  dressed  she  was,  with  a  new  light  cloak 
that  went  so  well  with  her  blue  eyes.  .  .  . 

Next  day  Erik  met  with  an  accident ;  his  horse 
bolted,  dragging  him  across  the  fields  and  throwing 
him  up  against  a  fence  at  last.  He  was  badly  mauled, 
and  spitting  blood  ;  a  few  hours  later,  when  he  had 
come  to  himself  a  little,  he  was  still  spitting  blood. 
Falkenberg  was  now  set  to  drive. 

I  feigned  to  be  distressed  at  what  had  happened,  and 
went  about  silent  and  gloomy  as  the  rest,  but  I  did  not 
feel  so.  I  had  no  hope  of  Froken  Elisabeth  for  myself, 
indeed  ;  still,  I  was  rid  of  one  that  stood  above  me  in 
her  favour. 

That  evening  I  went  over  to  the  churchyard  and  sat 
there  a  while.  If  only  she  would  come,  I  thought  to 
myself.  And  after  a  quarter  of  an  hour  she  came.  I 
got  up  suddenly,  entirely  as  I  had  planned,  made  as  if 
to  slip  away  and  hide,  then  I  stopped,  stood  helplessly 
and  surrendered.  But  here  all  my  schemes  and  plans 
forsook  me,  and  I  was  all  weakness  at  having  her  so 
near  ;  I  began  to  speak  of  something. 


32  WANDERERS 

"  Erik — to  think  it  should  have  happened — and  that, 
yesterday  ..." 

"  I  know  about  it,"  she  answered. 

"He  was  badly  hurt." 

"Yes,  yes,  of  course,  he  was  badly  hurt — why  do 
you  talk  to  me  about  him  ?  " 

"  I  thought  .  .  .  No,  I  don't  know.  But,  anyhow, 
he'll  get  better.  And  then  it  will  be  all  right  again, 
surely." 

"Yes,  yes  .  .   ." 

Pause. 

It  sounded  as  if  she  had  been  making  fun  of  me. 
Then  suddenly  she  said  with  a  smile  : 

"  What  a  strange  fellow  you  are  !  What  makes  you 
walk  all  that  way  to  come  and  sit  here  of  an  evening  ?  " 

"It's  just  a  little  habit  I've  got  lately.  For  some- 
thing to  do  till  bedtime." 

"  Then  you're  not  afraid  ?  " 

Her  jesting  tone  gave  me  courage  ;  I  felt  myself  on 
surer  ground,  and  answered  : 

"  No,  that's  just  the  trouble.  I  wanted  to  learn  to 
shiver  and  shake." 

"Learn  to  shiver  and  shake?  Like  the  boy  in  the 
fairy  tale.  Now  where  did  you  read  about  that,  I 
wonder?  " 

"  I  don't  know.     In  some  book  or  other,  I  suppose." 

Pause. 

"  Why  wouldn't  you  come  and  work  for  us  when 
Father  asked  you  ?  " 

"I'd  be  no  good  at  that  sort  of  work.  I'm  going 
out  on  the  roads  now  with  another  man." 

"Which  way  are  you  going?" 

"That  I  cannot  say.  East  or  west.  We  are  just 
wanderers." 

Pause. 

"I'm  sorry, "she  said.     "I  mean,  I  don't  think  it's  wise 


WANDERERS  33 

of  you.    .   .    .   Oh,   but  what  was   it   you   said   about 
Erik?     I  only  came  to  ask  about  him.   .  .   ." 
"  He's  in  a  baddish  way  now,  but  still  ..." 
"  Does  the  doctor  think  he  will  get  better?  " 
"  Yes,  as  far  as  I  know.     I've  not  heard  otherwise." 
"Well— good-night." 

Oh  to  be  young  and  rich  and  handsome,  and  famous 
and  learned  in  sciences  !  .  .  .  There  she  goes.  .  .  . 

Before  leaving  the  churchyard  I  found  a  serviceable 
thumbnail  and  put  it  in  my  pocket.  I  waited  a  little, 
peering  this  way  and  that,  and  listening,  but  all  was 
still.  No  voice  came  saying,  "  That's  mine !  " 

XII 

Falkenberg  and  I  set  out.  It  is  evening ;  cool  air 
and  a  lofty  sky  with  stars  lighting  up.  I  persuaded 
him  to  go  round  by  way  of  the  churchyard  ;  in  my 
foolishness  I  wished  to  go  that  way,  to  see  if  there 
should  be  light  in  one  little  window  down  at  the 
vicarage.  Oh  to  be  young  and  rich  and  .  .  . 

We  walked  some  hours,  having  but  little  weight  to 
carry,  and,  moreover,  we  were  two  wanderers  still  a 
little  strange  each  to  the  other,  so  we  could  talk  a  little. 
We  passed  by  the  first  trading  station,  and  came  to 
another ;  we  could  see  the  tower  of  the  annexe  church 
in  the  evening  light. 

From  sheer  habit  I  would  have  gone  into  the  church- 
yard here  as  well.  I  said  : 

"  What  do  you  think?  We  might  find  a  place  here 
for  the  night  ?  " 

"  No  sense  on  earth  in  that,"  said  Falkenberg, 
"when  there's  hay  in  every  barn  along  the  road. 
And  if  we're  turned  out,  there'll  be  shelter  in  the 
woods." 

And  we  went  on  again,  Falkenberg  leading. 
3 


34  WANDERERS 

He  was  a  man  of  something  over  thirty.  Tall  and 
well-built,  but  with  a  slight  stoop  ;  his  long  moustaches 
rounded  downwards.  He  was  short  of  speech  for  the 
most,  quick-witted  and  kindly  ;  also  he  had  a  splendid 
voice  for  songs  ;  a  different  sort  from  Grindhusen  in 
every  way.  And  when  he  spoke  he  used  odd  words 
from  different  local  dialects,  with  a  touch  of  Swedish 
here  and  there  ;  no  one  could  tell  what  part  he  came 
from. 

We  came  to  a  farmstead  where  the  dogs  barked,  and 
folk  were  still  about.  Falkenberg  asked  to  see  the 
man.  A  young  lad  came  out. 

Had  he  any  work  for  us  ? 

No. 

But  the  fence  there  along  by  the  road  was  all  to 
pieces,  if  we  couldn't  mend  that,  now? 

No.  Man  himself  had  nothing  else  to  do  this  time 
of  the  year. 

Could  they  give  us  shelter  for  the  night  ? 

Very  sorry,  but  .   .   . 

Not  in  the  barn  ? 

No,  the  girls  were  still  sleeping  there. 

"Swine,"  muttered  Falkenberg,  as  we  moved  away. 

We  turned  in  through  a  little  wood,  keeping  a  look- 
out now  for  a  likely  place  to  sleep. 

"Suppose  we  went  back  to  the  farm  now  to  the 
girls  in  the  barn?  Like  as  not  they  wouldn't  turn 
us  out." 

Falkenberg  thought  for  a  moment. 

"  The  dogs  will  make  a  row,"  he  said. 

We  came  out  into  a  field  where  two  horses  were 
loose.  One  had  a  bell  at  its  neck. 

"Nice  fellow  this,"  said  Falkenberg,  "with  his 
horses  still  out  and  his  womenfolk  still  sleeping  in  the 
barn.  It'd  be  doing  these  poor  beasts  a  good  turn  to 
ride  them  a  bit." 


WANDERERS  35 

He  caught  the  belled  horse,  stuffed  its  bell  with  grass 
and  moss,  and  got  on  its  back.  My  beast  was  shy, 
and  I  had  a  deal  of  trouble  to  get  hold  of  it. 

We  rode  across  the  field,  found  a  gate,  and  came  out 
on  to  the  road.  We  had  each  one  of  my  rugs  to  sit  on, 
but  neither  had  a  bridle. 

Still,  we  managed  well  enough,  managed  excellently 
well ;  we  rode  close  on  five  miles,  and  came  to  another 
village.  Suddenly  we  heard  someone  ahead  along 
the  road. 

"Better  take  it  at  a  gallop,"  said  Falkenberg  over 
his  shoulder.  "  Come  along." 

But  Falkenberg  was  no  marvel  of  a  horseman,  for  all 
his  leg  ;  he  clutched  the  bell-strap  first,  then  slithered 
forward  and  hung  on  with  both  arms  round  the  horse's 
neck.  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  one  of  his  legs  against  the 
sky  as  he  fell  off. 

Fortunately,  there  was  no  great  danger  waiting  us 
after  all ;  only  a  young  couple  out  sweethearting. 

Another  half-hour's  riding,  and  we  were  both  of  us 
stiff  and  sore.  We  got  down,  turned  the  horses'  faces 
to  home,  and  drove  them  off.  And  now  we  were  foot- 
passengers  once  more. 

Gakgak,  gakgak — the  sound  came  from  somewhere 
far  off.  I  knew  it  well ;  it  was  the  grey  goose.  When 
we  were  children,  we  were  taught  to  clasp  our  hands 
and  stand  quite  still,  lest  we  should  frighten  the  grey 
goose  as  it  passed.  No  harm  in  that ;  no  harm  in 
doing  so  now.  And  so  I  do.  A  quiet  sense  of  mystery 
steals  through  me  ;  I  hold  my  breath  and  gaze.  There 
it  comes,  the  sky  trailing  behind  it  like  the  wake  of 
a  ship.  Gakgak)  high  overhead.  And  the  splendid 
ploughshare  glides  along  beneath  the  stars.  .  .  . 

We  found  a  barn  at  last,  at  a  farmstead  where  all 
was  still,  and  there  we  slept  some  hours.  They  found 
us  there  next  morning  sound  asleep. 


36  WANDERERS 

Falkenberg  went  up  to  the  farmer  at  once  and  offered 
to  pay  for  our  lodging.  We  had  come  in  late  the  night 
before,  he  explained,  and  didn't  like  to  wake  folk  out  of 
their  beds,  but  we  were  no  runaways  for  all  that.  The 
man  would  not  take  our  money ;  instead  he  gave  us 
coffee  in  the  kitchen.  But  he  had  no  work  for  us  ;  the 
harvest  was  in,  and  he  and  his  lad  had  nothing  to  do 
themselves  now  but  mend  their  fences  here  and  there. 


XIII 

We  tramped  three  days  and  found  no  work,  but  had 
to  pay  for  our  food  and  drink,  getting  poorer  every  day. 

"  How  much  have  you  got  left,  and  how  much  have 
I  got  left  ?  We'll  never  get  any  great  way  at  this  rate," 
said  Falkenberg.  And  he  threw  out  a  hint  that  we'd 
soon  have  to  try  a  little  stealing. 

We  talked  it  over  a  bit,  and  agreed  to  wait  and  see 
how  things  turned  out.  Food  was  no  difficulty,  we 
could  always  get  hold  of  a  fowl  or  so  at  a  pinch.  But 
ready  money  was  the  thing  we  really  needed,  and  that 
we'd  have  to  get.  If  we  couldn't  manage  it  one  way, 
we'd  have  to  manage  another.  We  didn't  set  up  to  be 
angels. 

"  I'm  no  angel  out  of  heaven  alive,"  said  Falkenberg. 
"  Here  am  I  now,  sitting  around  in  my  best  clothes, 
and  they  no  better  than  another  man's  workaday  things. 
I  can  give  them  a  wash  in  a  stream,  and  sit  and  wait 
till  they're  dry ;  if  there's  a  hole  I  mend  it,  and  if  I 
chance  to  earn  a  bit  extra  some  day,  I  can  get  some 
more.  And  that's  the  end  of  it." 

"  But  young  Erik  said  you  were  a  beggar  to 
drink." 

"That  young  cock.  Drink — well,  of  course  I  do. 
No  sense  in  only  eating.  .  .  .  Let's  look  about  for  a 
place  where  there's  a  piano,"  said  Falkenberg. 


WANDERERS  37 

I  thought  to  myself:  a  piano  on  a  place  means  well- 
to-do  folk  ;  that's  where  he  is  going"  to  start  stealing. 

In  the  afternoon  we  came  to  just  such  a  place. 
Falkenberg  had  put  on  my  town  clothes  beforehand, 
and  given  me  his  sack  to  carry,  so  he  could  walk  in 
easily,  with  an  air.  He  went  straight  up  to  the  front 
steps,  and  I  lost  sight  of  him  for  a  bit ;  then  he  came 
out  again  and  said  yes,  he  was  going  to  tune  their 
piano. 

"Going  to  what?" 

"You  be  quiet,"  said  Falkenberg.  "I've  done  it 
before,  though  I  don't  go  bragging  about  it  every- 
where." 

He  fished  out  a  piano-tuner's  key  from  his  sack,  and 
I  saw  he  was  in  earnest. 

I  was  ordered  to  keep  near  the  place  while  he  was 
tuning. 

Well,  I  wandered  about  to  pass  the  time  ;  every  now 
and  then  coming  round  to  the  south  side  of  the  house, 
I  could  hear  Falkenberg  at  work  on  the  piano  in  the 
parlour,  and  forcibly  he  dealt  with  it.  He  could  not 
strike  a  decent  chord,  but  he  had  a  good  ear  ;  whenever 
he  screwed  up  a  string,  he  was  careful  to  screw  it  back 
again  exactly  where  it  was  before,  so  the  instrument  at 
any  rate  was  none  the  worse. 

I  got  into  talk  with  one  of  the  farm-hands,  a  young 
lad.  He  got  two  hundred  Kroner  a  year,  he  said, 
besides  his  board.  Up  at  half-past  six  in  the  morning 
to  feed  the  horses,  or  half-past  five  in  the  busy  season. 
Work  all  day,  till  eight  in  the  evening.  But  he  was 
healthily  content  with  his  life  in  that  little  world.  I 
remember  his  fine,  strong  set  of  teeth,  and  his  pleasant 
smile  as  he  spolre  of  his  girl.  He  had  given  her  a 
silver  ring  with  a  gold  heart  on  the  front. 

"  And  what  did  she  say  to  that  ?  " 

"  Well,  she  was  all  of  a  wonder,  you  may  be  sure." 


38  WANDERERS 

"  And  what  did  you  say  ?  " 

"  What  I  said?  Why,  I  don't  know.  Said  I  hoped 
she'd  like  it  and  welcome.  I'd  like  to  have  given  her 
stuff  for  a  dress  as  well,  but  .  .  ." 

"  Is  she  young?" 

"Why,  yes.  Talk  away  like  a  little  jews'  harp. 
Young — I  should  think  so." 

"  And  where  does  she  live  ?  " 

"Ah,  that  I  won't  say.  They'd  know  it  all  over  the 
village  if  I  did." 

And  there  I  stood  like  another  Alexander,  so  sure  of 
the  world,  and  half  contemptuous  of  this  boy  and  his 
poor  little  life.  When  we  went  away,  I  gave  him  one 
of  my  rugs  ;  it  was  too  much  of  a  weight  to  go  carrying 
two.  He  said  at  once  he  would  give  it  to  his  girl ;  she 
would  be  glad  of  a  nice  warm  rug. 

And  Alexander  said :  If  I  were  not  myself  I  would 
be  you.  .  .  . 

When  Falkenberg  had  finished  and  came  out,  he  was 
grown  so  elegant  in  his  manners  all  at  once,  and  talked 
in  such  a  delicate  fashion,  I  could  hardly  understand 
him.  The  daughter  of  the  house  came  out  with  him. 
We  were  to  pass  on  without  delay,  he  said,  to  the 
farm  adjacent ;  there  was  a  piano  there  which  needed 
some  slight  attention.  And  so  "  Farvel,  Fr0ken, 
Farvel." 

"Six  Kroner,  my  boy,"  he  whispered  in  my  ear. 
"  And  another  six  at  the  next  place,  that's  twelve." 

So  off  we  went,  and  I  carried  our  things. 

XIV 

Falkenberg  was  right ;  the  people  at  the  next  farm 
would  not  be  outdone  by  their  neighbours  ;  their  piano 
must  be  seen  to  as  well.  The  daughter  of  the  house 
was  away  for  the  moment,  but  the  work  could  be  done 


WANDERERS  39 

in  her  absence  as  a  little  surprise  for  her  when  she  came 
home.  She  had  often  complained  that  the  piano  was 
so  dreadfully  out  of  tune  it  was  impossible  to  play  on  it 
at  all.  So  now  I  was  left  to  myself  again  as  before, 
while  Falkenberg  was  busy  in  the  parlour.  When  it 
got  dark  he  had  lights  brought  in  and  went  on  tuning. 
He  had  his  supper  in  there  too,  and  when  he  had 
finished,  he  came  out  and  asked  me  for  his  pipe. 

"Which  pipe?  " 

"  You  fool !  the  one  with  the  clenched  fist,  of  course." 

Somewhat  unwillingly  I  handed  him  my  neatly  carved 
pipe  ;  I  had  just  got  it  finished,  with  the  nail  set  in  and 
a  gold  ring,  and  a  long  stem. 

"  Don't  let  the  nail  get  too  hot,"  I  whispered,  "  or  it 
might  curl  up." 

Falkenberg  lit  the  pipe  and  went  swaggering  up  with 
it  indoors.  But  he  put  in  a  word  for  me  too,  and  got 
them  to  give  me  supper  and  coffee  in  the  kitchen. 

I  found  a  place  to  sleep  in  the  barn. 

I  woke  up  in  the  night,  and  there  was  Falkenberg 
standing  close  by,  and  calling  me  by  name.  The  full 
moon  shone  right  in,  and  I  could  see  his  face. 

"What's  the  matter  now?" 

"  Here's  your  pipe.     Here  you  are,  man,  take  it." 

"Pipe?" 

"Yes,  your  pipe.  I  won't  have  the  thing  about  me 
another  minute.  Look  at  it — the  nail's  all  coming 
loose." 

I  took  the  pipe,  and  saw  the  nail  had  begun  to  curl 
away  from  the  wood.  Said  Falkenberg : 

"The  beastly  thing  was  looking  at  me  with  a  sort 
of  nasty  grin  in  the  moonlight.  And  then  when  I 
remembered  where  you'd  got  that  nail  .  .  ." 

Happy  Falkenberg ! 

Next  morning  when  we  were  ready  to  start  off  again, 
the  daughter  of  the  house  had  come  home.  We  heard 


40  WANDERERS 

her  thumping  out  a  waltz  on  the  piano,  and  a  little 
after  she  came  out  and  said  : 

"  It's  made  no  end  of  difference  with  the  piano. 
Thank  you  very  much." 

"  I  hope  you  may  find  it  satisfactory,"  said  the  piano- 
tuner  grandly. 

"Yes,  indeed.  There's  quite  a  different  tone  in  it 
now." 

"And  is  there  anywhere  else  Frokenen  could  recom- 
mend .  .  .?" 

"Ask  the  people  at  0vrebo  ;  Falkenberg's  the  name." 


"  Falkenberg.  Go  straight  on  from  here,  and  you'll 
come  to  a  post  on  the  right-hand  side  about  a  mile  and 
a  half  along.  Turn  off  there  and  that'll  take  you  to  it." 

At  that  Falkenberg  sat  down  plump  at  the  steps  and 
began  asking  all  sorts  of  questions  about  the  Falken- 
bergs  at  0vrebo.  Only  to  think  he  should  come  across 
his  kinsmen  here,  and  find  himself,  as  it  were,  at  home 
again.  He  was  profusely  grateful  for  the  information. 
"Thanks  most  sincerely,  Froken." 

Then  we  went  on  our  way  again,  and  I  carried  the 
things. 

Once  in  the  wood  we  sat  down  to  talk  over  what  was 
to  be  done.  Was  it  advisable,  after  all,  for  a  Falken- 
berg of  the  rank  of  piano-tuner  to  go  walking  up  to  the 
Captain  at  Ovrebo  and  claim  relationship?  I  was  the 
more  timid,  and  ended  by  making  Falkenberg  himself  a 
little  shy  of  it.  On  the  other  hand,  it  might  be  a  merry 
jest. 

Hadn't  he  any  papers  with  his  name  on  ?  Certificates 
of  some  sort  ? 

"Yes,  but  for  Fan,  there's  nothing  in  them  except 
saying  I'm  a  reliable  workman." 

We  cast  about  for  some  way  of  altering  the  papers  a 
little,  but  finally  agreed  it  would  be  better  to  make  a  new 


WANDERERS  41 

one  altogether.  We  might  do  one  for  unsurpassed 
proficiency  in  piano-tuning  and  put  in  the  Christian 
name  as  Leopold  instead  of  Lars.1  There  was  no  limit 
to  what  we  could  do  in  that  way. 

"  Think  you  can  write  out  that  certificate  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Yes,  that  I  can." 

But  now  that  wretched  brain  of  mine  began  playing 
tricks,  and  making  the  whole  thing  ridiculous.  A 
piano-tuner  wasn't  enough,  I  thought  ;  no,  make  him 
a  mechanical  genius,  a  man  who  had  solved  most 
intricate  problems,  an  inventor  with  a  factory  of  his 
own.  .  .  . 

"Then  I  wouldn't  need  to  go  about  waving  certifi- 
cates," said  Falkenberg,  and  refused  to  listen  any 
more.  No,  the  whole  thing  looked  like  coming  to 
nothing  after  all. 

Downcast  and  discouraged  both,  we  tramped  on  till 
we  came  to  the  post. 

"  You're  not  going  up,  are  you?  "  I  asked. 

"You  can  go  yourself,"  said  Falkenberg  sourly. 
"  Here,  take  your  rags  of  things." 

But  a  little  way  farther  on  he  slackened  his  pace, 
and  muttered : 

"  It's  a  wicked  shame  to  throw  away  a  chance  like 
that.  Why,  it's  just  cut  out  for  us  as  it  is." 

"Well,  then,  why  don't  you  go  up  and  pay  them 
a  call?  Who  knows,  you  might  be  some  relation 
after  all." 

"I  wish  I'd  thought  to  ask  if  he'd  a  nephew  in 
America." 

"What  then?  Could  you  talk  English  to  them  if 
he  had  ?  " 

"You  mind  your  own  business,  and  don't  talk  so 
much,"  said  Falkenberg.  "  I  don't  see  what  you've 
got  to  brag  about,  anyway." 

1  Again  substituting  an  aristocratic  for  a  rustic  name. 


42  WANDERERS 

He  was  nervous  and  out  of  temper,  and  began 
stepping  out.  Then  suddenly  he  stopped  and  said  : 

"  I'll  do  it.  Lend  me  that  pipe  of  yours  again.  I 
won't  light  it." 

We  walked  up  the  hill,  Falkenberg  putting  on 
mighty  airs,  pointing  this  way  and  that  with  the  pipe 
and  criticising  Jie  place.  It  annoyed  me  somewhat 
to  see  him  stalking  along  in  that  vainglorious  fashion 
while  I  carried  the  load.  I  said : 

"  Going  to  be  a  piano-tuner  this  time?  " 

"I  think  I've  shown  I  can  tune  a  piano,"  he  said 
shortly.  "  I  am  good  for  that  at  any  rate." 

"  But  suppose  there's  someone  in  the  house  knows 
all  about  it — Fruen,  for  instance — and  tries  the  piano 
after  you've  done  ?  " 

Falkenberg  was  silent.  I  could  see  he  was  growing 
doubtful  again.  Little  by  little  his  lordly  gait  sank  to 
a  slouching  walk. 

"Perhaps  we  better  not,"  he  said.  "Here,  take 
your  pipe.  We'll  just  go  up  and  simply  ask  for  work." 

XV 

As  it  happened,  there  was  a  chance  for  us  to  make 
ourselves  useful  the  moment  we  came  on  the  place. 
They  were  getting  up  a  new  flagstaff,  and  were  short 
of  hands.  We  set  to  work  and  got  it  up  in  fine  style. 
There  was  a  crowd  of  women  looking  on  from  the 
window. 

Was  Captain  Falkenberg  at  home  ? 

No. 

Or  Fruen? 

Fruen  came  out.  She  was  tall  and  fair,  and  friendly 
as  a  young  foal  ;  and  she  answered  our  greeting  in  the 
kindliest  way. 

Had  she  any  work  for  us  now  ? 


WANDERERS  43 

"  Well,  I  don't  know.  I  don't  think  so  really,  not 
while  my  husband's  away." 

I  had  an  idea  she  found  it  hard  to  say  no,  and 
touched  my  cap  and  was  turning  away,  not  to  trouble 
her  any  more.  But  she  must  have  found  something 
strange  about  Falkenberg,  coming  up  like  that  wearing 
decent  clothes,  and  with  a  man  to  carry  his  things  ; 
she  looked  at  him  inquisitively  and  asked  : 

"What  sort  of  work?" 

"Any  kind  of  outdoor  work,"  said  Falkenberg. 
"We  can  take  on  hedging  and  ditching,  bricklayer's 
work  ..." 

"Getting  late  in  the  year  for  that  sort,"  put  in  one 
of  the  men  by  the  flagstaff. 

"Yes,  I  suppose  it  is,"  Fruen  agreed.  "I  don't 
know.  .  .  .  Anyhow,  it's  just  dinner-time  ;  if  you'd 
like  to  go  in  and  get  something  to  eat  meanwhile. 
Such  as  it  is." 

"Thank  you  kindly,"  answered  Falkenberg. 

Now,  that  seemed  to  my  mind  a  poor  and  vulgar 
way  to  speak  ;  I  felt  he  shamed  us  both  in  answering 
so,  and  it  distressed  me.  So  I  must  put  in  a  word 
myself. 

"  Mille  graces,  Madame;  vous  etes  trop  amiable"  1 
said  gallantly,  and  took  off  my  cap. 

Fruen  turned  round  and  stared  at  me  in  astonish- 
ment ;  the  look  on  her  face  was  comical  to  see. 

We  were  shown  into  the  kitchen  and  given  an 
excellent  meal.  Fruen  went  indoors.  When  we  had 
finished,  !and  were  starting  off,  she  came  out  again  ; 
Falkenberg  had  got  back  his  courage  now,  and, 
taking  advantage  of  her  kindness,  offered  to  tune 
the  piano. 

"  Can  you  tune  pianos  too?  "  she  asked,  in  surprise. 

"  Yes,  indeed  ;  I  tuned  the  one  on  the  farm  down 
below." 


44  WANDERERS 

"  Mine's  a  grand  piano,  and  a  good  one.  I  shouldn't 
like  it  .  .  ." 

"  Fruen  can  be  easy  about  that." 

"  Have  you  any  sort  of  .   .   ." 

"  I've  no  certificate,  no.  It's  not  my  way  to  ask  for 
such.  But  Fruen  can  come  and  hear  me." 

"Well,  perhaps — yes,  come  this  way." 

She  went  into  the  house,  and  he  followed.  I 
looked  through  the  doorway  as  they  went  in,  and 
saw  a  room  with  many  pictures  on  the  walls. 

The  maids  fussed  about  in  and  out  of  the  kitchen, 
casting  curious  glances  at  me,  stranger  as  I  was  ;  one 
of  the  girls  was  quite  nice-looking.  I  was  thankful  I 
had  shaved  that  morning. 

Some  ten  minutes  passed  ;  Falkenberg  had  begun. 
Fruen  came  out  into  the  kitchen  again  and  said : 

"And  to  think  you  speak  French  !  It's  more  than 
I  do." 

Now,  Heaven  be  thanked  for  that.  I  had  no  wish  to 
go  farther  with  it  myself.  If  I  had,  it  would  have  been 
mostly  hackneyed  stuff,  about  returning  to  our  muttons 
and  looking  for  the  lady  in  the  case,  and  the  State, 
that's  me,  and  so  on. 

"Your  friend  showed  me  his  papers,"  said  Fruen. 
"You  seem  to  be  decent  folk.  I  don't  know.  ...  I 
might  telegraph  to  my  husband  and  ask  if  he's  any 
work  for  you." 

I  would  have  thanked  her,  but  could  not  get 
a  word  out  for  swallowing  at  something  in  my 
throat. 

Neurasthenia ! 

Afterwards  I  went  out  across  the  yard  and  walked 
about  the  fields  a  bit ;  all  was  in  good  order  every- 
where, and  the  crops  in  under  cover.  Even  the  potato 
stalks  had  been  carted  in,  though  there's  many  places 
where  they're  left  out  till  the  snow  comes.  I  could  see 


WANDERERS  45 

nothing  for  us  to  do  at  all.  Evidently  these  people 
were  well-to-do. 

When  it  was  getting  towards  evening,  and  Falken- 
berg  was  still  tuning,  I  took  a  bit  of  something  to  eat 
in  my  pocket  and  went  off  for  a  walk,  to  be  out  of  the 
way  so  they  should  not  ask  me  in  to  supper.  There 
was  a  moon,  and  the  stars  were  out,  but  I  liked  best  to 
grope  my  way  into  the  dense  part  of  the  wood  and  sit 
down  in  the  dark.  It  was  more  sheltered  there,  too. 
How  quiet  the  earth  and  air  seemed  now !  The  cold 
is  beginning,  there  is  rime  on  the  ground  ;  now  and 
again  a  stalk  of  grass  creaks  faintly,  a  little  mouse 
squeaks,  a  rook  comes  soaring  over  the  treetops,  then 
all  is  quiet  again.  Was  there  ever  such  fair  hair  as 
hers  ?  Surely  never.  Born  a  wonder,  from  top  to  toe, 
her  lips  a  ripened  loveliness,  and  the  play  of  dragon- 
flies  in  her  hair.  If  only  one  could  draw  out  a  diadem 
from  a  sack  of  clothes  and  give  it  her.  I'll  find  a  pink 
shell  somewhere  and  carve  it  to  a  thumbnail,  and  offer 
her  the  pipe  to  give  her  husband  for  a  present  .  .  . 
yes.  .  .  . 

Falkenberg  comes  across  the  yard  to  meet  me,  and 
whispers  hurriedly  : 

"  She's  got  an  answer  from  the  Captain  ;  he  says  we 
can  set  to  work  felling  timber  in  the  woods.  Are  you 
any  good  at  that  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"Well,  then,  go  inside,  into  the  kitchen.  She's 
been  asking  for  you." 

I  went  in,  and  Fruen  said : 

"  I  wondered  where  you'd  got  to.  Sit  down  and 
have  something  to  eat.  Had  your  supper  ?  Where?" 

"  We've  food  with  us  in  the  sack." 

"Well,  there  was  no  need  to  do  that.  Won't  you 
have  a  cup  of  tea,  then?  Nothing?  .  .  .  I've  had  an 
answer  from  my  husband.  Can  you  fell  trees  ?  Well, 


4  6  WANDERERS 

that's  all  right.     Look,  here  it  is  :  '  Want  couple  of  men 
felling-  timber,  Fetter  will  show  trees  marked.'  ..." 

Heaven — she  stood  there  beside  me,  pointing  to  the 
message.  And  the  scent  of  a  young  girl  in  her 
breath.  .  .  . 

XVI 

In  the  woods.  Fetter  is  one  of  the  farm-hands  ;  he 
showed  us  the  way  here. 

When  we  talked  together,  Falkenberg  was  not  by 
any  means  so  grateful  to  Fruen  for  giving  us  work. 
"  Nothing  to  bow  and  scrape  for  in  that,"  he  said. 
"It's  none  so  easy  to  get  workmen  these  days." 
Falkenberg,  by  the  way,  was  nothing  out  of  the 
ordinary  in  the  woodcutting  line,  while  I'd  had  some 
experience  of  the  work  in  another  part  of  the  world, 
and  so  could  take  a  lead  in  this  at  a  pinch.  And  he 
agreed  I  was  to  be  leader. 

Just  now  I  began  working  in  my  mind  on  an 
invention. 

With  the  ordinary  sort  of  saw  now  in  use,  the  men 
have  to  lie  down  crookedwise  on  the  ground  and  pull 
sideways.  And  that's  why  there's  not  so  much  gets 
done  in  a  day,  and  a  deal  of  ugly  stumps  left  after 
in  the  woods.  Now,  with  a  conical  transmission 
apparatus  that  could  be  screwed  on  to  the  root,  it 
should  be  possible  to  work  the  saw  with  a  straight 
back-and-forward  movement,  but  the  blade  cutting 
horizontally  all  the  time.  I  set  to  work  designing 
parts  of  a  machine  of  this  sort.  The  thing  that 
puzzled  me  most  was  how  to  get  the  little  touch  of 
pressure  on  the  blade  that's  needed.  It  might  be  done 
by  means  of  a  spring  that  could  be  wound  up  by 
clockwork,  or  perhaps  a  weight  would  do  it.  The 
weight  would  be  easier,  but  uniform,  and,  as  the  saw 
went  deeper,  it  would  be  getting  harder  all  the  time, 


WANDERERS  47 

and  the  same  pressure  would  not  do.  A  steel  spring, 
on  the  other  hand,  would  slacken  down  as  the  cut 
grew  deeper,  and  always  give  the  right  amount  of 
pressure.  I  decided  on  the  spring1  system.  "You  can 
manage  it,"  I  told  myself.  And  it  would  be  the 
greatest  thing  in  my  life  for  the  credit  of  it. 

The  days  passed,  one  like  another ;  we  felled  our 
nine-inch  timber,  and  cut  off  twigs  and  tops.  We 
lived  in  plenty,  taking  food  and  coffee  with  us  when  we 
started  for  the  woods,  and  getting  a  hot  meal  in  the 
evening  when  we  came  home.  Then  we  washed  and 
tidied  ourselves — to  be  nicer-mannered  than  the  farm- 
hands— and  sat  in  the  kitchen,  with  a  big  lamp 
alight,  and  three  girls.  Falkenberg  got  to  be  sweet- 
hearts with  Emma. 

And  every  now  and  then  there  would  come  a  wave  of 
music  from  the  piano  in  the  parlour  ;  sometimes  Fruen 
herself  would  come  out  to  us  with  her  girlish  youth  and 
her  blessed  kindly  ways.  "And  how  did  you  get  on 
to-day?"  she  would  ask.  "Did  you  meet  a  bear  in 
the  woods  ?  "  But  one  evening  she  thanked  Falkenberg 
for  doing  her  piano  so  nicely.  What?  did  she  mean 
it  ?  Falkenberg's  weather-beaten  face  grew  quite  hand- 
some with  pleasure ;  I  felt  proud  of  him  when  he 
answered  modestly  that  he  thought  himself  it  was  a 
little  better  now. 

Either  he  had  gained  by  his  experience  in  tuning 
already,  or  Fruen  was  grateful  to  him  for  not  having 
spoiled  the  grand  piano. 

Falkenberg  dressed  up  in  my  town  clothes  every 
evening.  It  wouldn't  do  for  me  to  take  them  back  now 
and  wear  them  myself;  everyone  would  believe  I'd 
borrowed  them  from  him. 

"  Let  me  have  Emma,  and  you  can  keep  the  clothes," 
I  said  in  jest. 

?'  All  right,  you  can  take  her,"  he  answered. 


48  WANDERERS 

I  began  to  see  then  that  Falkenberg  was  growing 
cooler  towards  his  girl.  Oh,  but  Falkenberg  had  fallen 
in  love  too,  the  same  as  I.  What  simple  boys  we  were  ! 

"Wonder  if  she  will  give  us  a  look-in  this  evening 
again  ?  "  Falkenberg  would  say  while  we  were  out  at 
work. 

And  I  would  answer  that  I  didn't  care  how  long  the 
Captain  stayed  away. 

"No,  you're  right,"  said  Falkenberg.  "And  I  say, 
if  I  find  he  isn't  decent  to  her,  there'll  be  trouble." 

Then  one  evening  Falkenberg  gave  us  a  song.  And 
I  was  proud  of  him  as  ever.  Fruen  came  out,  and  he 
had  to  sing  it  over  again,  and  another  one  after ;  his 
fine  voice  filled  the  room,  and  Fruen  was  delighted, 
and  said  she  had  never  heard  anything  like  it. 

And  then  it  was  I  began  to  be  envious. 

"Have  you  learnt  singing?"  asked  Fruen.  "Can 
you  read  music  at  all  ?  " 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  Falkenberg.  "I  used  to  sing 
in  a  club." 

Now  that  was  where  he  should  have  said :  no, 
worse  luck,  he'd  never  learned,  so  I  thought  to  myself. 

"  Have  you  ever  sung  to  anyone?  Has  anyone  ever 
heard  you  ?  " 

"  I've  sung  at  dances  and  parties  now  and  again. 
And  once  at  a  wedding." 

"But  I  mean  for  anyone  that  knew:  has  anyone 
tried  your  voice?" 

"  No,  not  that  I  know  of — or  yes,  I  think  so,  yes." 

"  Well,  won't  you  sing  some  more  now  ?     Do." 

And  Falkenberg  sang. 

The  end  of  it'll  be  he'll  be  asked  right  into  the  parlour 
one  evening,  I  thought  to  myself,  with  Fruen  to  play 
for  him.  I  said  : 

"Beg  pardon,  but  won't  the  Captain  be  coming 
home  soon?" 


WANDERERS  49 

"Yes,  soon,"  answered  Fruen.  "Why  do  you 
ask?" 

"  I  was  only  thinking1  about  the  work." 

"  Have  you  felled  all  the  trees  that  were  marked  ?  " 

"  No,  not  yet — no,  not  by  a  long  way.     But  ..." 

"Oh  ..."  said  Fruen  suddenly,  as  if  she  had  just 
thought  of  something.  "  You  must  have  some  money. 
Yes,  of  course  .  .  ." 

I  grasped  at  that  to  save  myself,  and  answered : 

"Thank  you  very  much." 

Falkenberg  said  nothing. 

"  Well,  you've  only  to  ask,  you  know.  V&rsaagod" 
and  she  handed  me  the  money  I  had  asked  for.  "  And 
what  about  you  ?  " 

"Nothing,  thank  you  all  the  same,"  answered 
Falkenberg. 

Heavens,  how  I  had  lost  again — fallen  to  earth  again  ! 
And  Falkenberg,  that  shameless  impostor,  who  sat 
there  playing  the  man  of  property  who  didn't  need 
anything  in  advance.  I  would  tear  my  clothes  off  him 
that  very  night,  and  leave  him  naked. 

Only,  of  course,  I  did  nothing  of  the  sort. 

XVII 

And  two  days  went  by. 

"If  she  comes  out  again  this  evening,"  Falkenberg 
would  say  up  in  the  woods,  "  I'll  sing  that  one  about 
the  poppy.  I'd  forgotten  that." 

"You've  forgotten  Emma,  too,  haven't  you?"  I  ask. 

"  Emma?  Look  here,  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is:  you're 
just  the  same  as  ever,  that's  what  you  are." 

"Ho,  am  I?" 

"Yes;  inside,  I  mean.     You  wouldn't  mind  taking 
Emma   right   there,   with    Fruen   looking   on.     But   I 
couldn't  do  that." 
4 


50  WANDERERS 

"  That's  a  lie!"  I  answered  angrily.  "You  won't 
see  me  tangled  up  in  any  foolery  with  the  girls  as  long 
as  I  am  here." 

"Ah,  and  I  shan't  be  out  at  nights  with  anyone 
after.  Think  she'll  come  this  evening?  I'd  forgotten 
that  one  about  the  poppy  till  now.  Just  listen." 

Falkenberg  sang  the  Poppy  Song-. 

"You're  lucky,  being  able  to  sing  like  that,"  I  said. 
"  But  there's  neither  of  us'll  get  her,  for  all  that." 

"Get  her!  Why,  whoever  thought  .  .  .  What  a 
fool  you  are  !  " 

"Ah,  if  I  were  young  and  rich  and  handsome,  I'd 
win  her  all  the  same,"  I  said. 

"  If — and  if  ...  So  could  I,  for  the  matter  of  that. 
But  there's  the  Captain." 

"Yes,  and  then  there's  you.  And  then  there's  me. 
And  then  there's  herself  and  everybody  else  in  the 
world.  And  we're  a  couple  of  brutes  to  be  talking 
about  her  like  this  at  all,"  said  I,  furious  now  with 
myself  for  my  own  part.  "  A  nice  thing,  indeed,  for  two 
old  woodcutters  to  speak  of  their  mistress  so." 

We  grew  pale  and  thin  the  pair  of  us,  and  the 
wrinkles  showed  up  in  Falkenberg's  drawn  face ; 
neither  of  us  could  eat  as  we  used.  And  by  way  of 
trying  to  hide  our  troubles  from  each  other,  I  went 
about  talking  all  sorts  of  cheerful  nonsense,  while 
Falkenberg  bragged  loudly  at  every  meal  of  how  he'd 
got  to  eating  too  much  of  late,  and  was  getting  slack 
and  out  of  form. 

"  Why,  you  don't  seem  to  eat  anything1  at  all,"  Fruen 
would  say  when  we  came  home  with  too  much  left  of 
the  food  we  had  taken  with  us.  "  Nice  woodcutters, 
indeed." 

"  It's  Falkenberg  that  won't  eat,"  said  I. 

"  Ho,  indeed  !  "  said  Falkenberg  ;  "  I  like  that.  He's 
given  up  eating  altogether." 


WANDERERS  5  1 

Now  and  again  when  she  asked  us  to  do  her  a  favour, 
some  little  service  or  other,  we  would  both  hurry  to  do 
it  ;  at  last  we  got  to  bringing  in  water  and  firewood  of 
our  own  accord.  But  one  day  Falkenberg  played  me  a 
mean  trick  :  he  came  home  with  a  bunch  of  hazel  twigs 
for  a  carpet-beater,  that  Fruen  had  asked  me  expressly 
to  cut  for  her. 

And  he  sang  every  evening  now. 

Then  it  was  I  resolved  to  make  Fruen  jealous  —  ey, 
ey,  my  good  man,  are  you  mad  now,  or  merely  foolish  ? 
As  if  Fruen  would  ever  give  it  as  much  as  a  thought, 
whatever  you  did. 

But  so  it  was.     I  would  try  to  make  her  jealous. 

Of  the  three  girls  on  the  place,  there  was  only  one 
that  could  possibly  be  used  for  the  experiment,  and 
that  was  Emma.  So  I  started  talking  nonsense  to 
Emma. 

"  Emma,  I  know  of  someone  that  is  sighing  for  you." 

"  And  where  did  you  get  to  know  of  that,  pray  ?  " 

"  From  the  stars  above." 

"  I'd  rather  hear  of  it  from  someone  here  on  earth." 

"  I  can  tell  you  that,  too.     At  first-hand." 

"It's  himself  he  means,"  put  in  Falkenberg,  anxious 
to  keep  well  out  of  it. 

"Well,  and  I  don't  mind  saying  it  is.  Paratum  cor 
meum." 

But  Emma  was  ungracious,  and  didn't  care  to  talk  to 
me,  for  all  I  was  better  at  languages  than  Falkenberg. 
What  —  could  I  not  even  master  Emma?  Well  ...  I 
turned  proud  and  silent  after  that,  and  went  my  own 
ways,  making  drawings  for  that  machine  of  mine  and 
little  models.  And  when  Falkenberg  was  singing  of 
an  evening,  and  Fruen  listening,  I  went  across  to  the 
men's  quarters  and  stayed  there  with  them.  Which, 
of  course,  was  much  more  dignified.  The  only  trouble 
about  it  was  that  Fetter  was  ill  in  bed,  and  couldn't 


UNIVERSmr  OF  ILUNGU 


52  WANDERERS 

stand  the  noise  of  axe  and  hammer,  so  I  had  to  go 
outside  every  time  I'd  any  heavy  piece  of  work  to  do. 

Still,  now  and  again  I  fancied  Fruen  might  perhaps 
be  sorry,  after  all,  at  missing  my  company  in  the  kitchen. 
It  looked  so,  to  me.  One  evening,  when  we  were  at 
supper,  she  turned  to  me  and  said  : 

"  What's  that  the  men  were  saying  about  a  new 
machine  you're  making?" 

"It's  a  new  kind  of  saw  he's  messing  about  with," 
said  Falkenberg.  "  But  it's  too  heavy  to  be  any  good." 

I  made  no  answer  to  that,  but  craftily  preferred  to 
be  wronged.  Was  it  not  the  fate  of  all  inventors  to  be 
so  misjudged  ?  Only  wait :  my  time  was  not  yet  come. 
There  were  moments  when  I  could  hardly  keep  from 
bursting  out  with  a  revelation  to  the  girls,  of  how  I 
was  really  a  man  of  good  family,  led  astray  by  despera- 
tion over  an  unhappy  love  affair,  and  now  taking  to 
drink.  Alas,  yes,  man  proposes,  God  disposes.  .  .  . 
And  then,  perhaps,  Fruen  herself  might  come  to  hear 
of  it.  .  .  . 

"I  think  I'll  take  to  going  over  with  the  men  in  the 
evenings,"  said  Falkenberg,  "  the  same  as  you." 

And  I  knew  well  enough  why  Falkenberg  had  sud- 
denly taken  it  into  his  head  to  spend  his  evenings  there  ; 
he  was  not  asked  to  sing  now  as  often  as  before ;  some 
way  or  other,  he  was  less  in  demand  of  late. 

XVIII 

The  Captain  had  returned. 

A  big  man,  with  a  full  beard,  came  out  to  us  one  day 
while  we  were  at  work,  and  said  : 

"  I'm  Captain  Falkenberg.    Well,  lads,  how  goes  it?" 

We  greeted  him  respectfully,  and  answered:  "Well 
enough." 

Then  there  was  some  talk  of  what  we  had  done  and 


WANDERERS  53 

what  remained  to  do.  The  Captain  was  pleased  with 
our  work — all  clean  cut  and  close  to  the  root.  Then 
he  reckoned  out  how  much  we  had  got  through  per  day, 
and  said  it  came  to  a  good  average. 

"  Captain's  forgetting  Sundays,"  said  I. 

"That's  true,"  said  he.  "Well,  that  makes  it  over 
the  average.  Had  any  trouble  at  all  with  the  tools  ? 
Is  the  saw  all  right  ?  " 

"Quite  all  right." 

"And  nobody  hurt?" 

"No." 

Pause. 

"  You  ought  by  rights  to  provide  your  own  food,"  he 
said,  "  but  if  you  would  rather  have  it  the  other  way, 
we  can  square  it  when  we  come  to  settle  up." 

"  We'll  be  glad  to  have  it  as  Captain  thinks  best." 

"Yes,"  agreed  Falkenberg  as  well. 

The  Captain  took  a  turn  up  through  the  wood  and 
came  back  again. 

"Couldn't  have  better  weather,"  he  said.  "No 
snow  to  shovel  away." 

"  No,  there's  no  snow — that's  true  ;  but  a  little  more 
frost'd  do  no  harm." 

"  Why  ?     Cooler  to  work  in,  d'you  mean  ?  " 

"  That,  too,  perhaps  ;  yes.  But  the  saw  cuts  easier 
when  timber's  frozen." 

"You're  an  old  hand  at  this  work,  then?" 

"Yes." 

"  And  are  you  the  one  that  sings  ?  " 

"  No,  more's  the  pity.     He  is  the  one  that  sings." 

"  Oh,  so  you  are  the  singer,  are  you?  We're  name- 
sakes, I  believe  ?  " 

"Why,  yes,  in  a  way,"  said  Falkenberg,  a  little 
awkwardly.  "My  name  is  Lars  Falkenberg,  and  I've 
my  certificate  to  show  for  that." 

"  What  part  d'you  come  from  ?  " 


54  WANDERERS 

"  From  Trendelagen." 

The  Captain  went  home.  He  was  friendly  enough, 
but  spoke  in  a  short,  decisive  way,  with  never  a  smile 
or  a  jesting  word.  A  good  face,  something  ordinary. 

From  that  day  onwards  Falkenberg  never  sang  but 
in  the  men's  quarters,  or  out  in  the  open  ;  no  more 
singing  in  the  kitchen  now  the  Captain  had  come  home. 
Falkenberg  was  irritable  and  gloomy  ;  he  would  swear 
at  times  and  say  life  wasn't  worth  living  these  days  ;  a 
man  might  as  well  go  and  hang  himself  and  have  done 
with  it.  But  his  fit  of  despair  soon  came  to  an  end. 
One  Sunday  he  went  back  to  the  two  farms  where  he 
had  tuned  the  pianos,  and  asked  for  a  recommendation 
from  each.  When  he  came  back  he  showed  me  the 
papers,  and  said : 

"  They'll  do  to  keep  going  with  for  a  bit." 

"  Then  you're  not  going  to  hang  yourself,  after  all  ?  " 

"  You've  better  cause  to  go  that  way,  if  you  ask  me," 
said  Falkenberg. 

But  I,  too,  was  less  despairing  now.  When  the 
Captain  heard  about  my  machine  idea,  he  wanted  to 
know  more  about  it  at  once.  He  saw  at  the  first  glance 
that  my  drawings  were  far  from  perfect,  being  made  on 
small  pieces  of  paper,  and  without  so  much  as  a  pair  of 
dividers  to  work  with.  He  lent  me  a  set  of  drawing 
instruments,  and  gave  me  some  useful  hints  about  how 
such  things  were  done.  He,  too,  was  afraid  my  saw 
would  prove  too  cumbersome.  "  But  keep  on  with  it, 
anyway,"  he  said.  "Get  the  whole  thing  drawn  to  a 
definite  scale,  then  we  can  see." 

I  realised,  however,  that  a  decently  constructed  model 
of  the  thing  would  give  a  better  idea  of  it,  and  as  soon 
as  I  was  through  with  the  drawings  I  set  to  work 
carving  a  model  in  wood.  I  had  no  lathe,  and  had  to 
whittle  out  the  two  rollers  and  several  wheels  and  screws 
by  hand.  I  was  working  at  this  on  the  Sunday,  and  so 


WANDERERS  5  5 

taken  up  with  it  I  never  heard  the  dinner-bell.  The 
Captain  came  out  and  called,  "  Dinner!  "  Then,  when 
he  saw  what  I  was  doing",  he  offered  to  drive  over  him- 
self to  the  smithy  the  very  next  day,  and  get  the  parts 
I  needed  cut  on  the  lathe.  "  All  you  need  do  is  to  give 
me  the  measurements,"  he  said.  "And  you  must  want 
some  tools,  surely  ?  Saw  and  drills  ;  right !  Screws, 
yes,  and  a  fine  chisel  ...  is  that  all?" 

He  made  a  note  of  the  things  on  the  spot.  A  first- 
rate  man  to  work  under. 

But  in  the  evening,  when  I  had  finished  supper  and 
was  crossing  the  courtyard  to  the  men's  room,  Fruen 
called  me.  She  was  standing  between  the  kitchen 
windows,  in  the  shadow,  but  slipped  forward  now. 

"  My  husband  said  ...  he  ...  said  .  .  .  you  can't 
be  warm  enough  in  these  thin  clothes,"  she  said. 
"  And  would  you  .  .  .  here,  take  these." 

She  bundled  a  whole  suit  into  my  arms. 

I  thanked  her,  stammering  foolishly.  I  was  going  to 
get  myself  some  new  things  soon.  There  was  no  hurry  ; 
I  didn't  need  .  .  . 

"Of  course,  I  know  you  can  get  thing's  yourself. 
But  when  your  friend  is  so  ...  so  ...  oh,  take  these." 

And  she  ran  away  indoors  again,  the  very  fashion  of 
a  young  girl  fearing  to  be  caught  doing  something- 
over-kind.  I  had  to  call  my  last  thanks  after  her. 

When  the  Captain  came  out  next  evening"  with  my 
wheels  and  rollers,  I  took  the  opportunity  of  thanking 
him  for  the  clothes. 

"Oh — er — yes,"  he  answered.  "It  was  my  wife 
that  ...  Do  they  fit  you  all  right?  " 

"  Yes  ;  many  thanks." 

"That's  all  right,  then.  Yes  ;  it  was  my  wife  that  .  .  . 
well,  here  are  the  things  for  your  machine,  and  the 
tools.  Good-night." 

It  seemed,  then,  as  if  the  two  of  them  were  equally 


56  WANDERERS 

ready  to  do  an  act  of  kindness.  And  when  it  was  done, 
each  would  lay  the  blame  upon  the  other.  Surely  this 
must  be  the  perfect  wedded  life,  that  dreamers  dreamed 
of  here  on  earth.  , 


XIX 

The  woods  are  stripped  of  leaf  now,  and  the  bird- 
sounds  are  gone  ;  only  the  crows  rasp  out  their  screech- 
ing" note  at  five  in  the  morning,  when  they  spread  out 
over  the  fields.  We  see  them,  Falkenberg  and  I,  as 
we  go  to  our  work  ;  the  yearling  birds,  that  have  not 
yet  learned  fear  of  the  world,  hop  along  the  path  before 
our  feet. 

Then  we  meet  the  finch,  the  sparrow  of  the  timbered 
lands.  He  has  been  out  in  the  woods  already,  and  is 
coming  back  now  to  humankind,  that  he  likes  to  live 
with  and  study  from  all  sides.  Queer  little  finch.  A 
bird  of  passage,  really,  but  his  parents  have  taught  him 
that  one  can  spend  a  winter  in  the  north ;  and  now  he 
will  teach  his  children  that  the  north's  the  only  place  to 
spend  the  winter  in  at  all.  But  there  is  still  a  touch  of 
emigrant  blood  in  him,  and  he  remains  a  wanderer. 
One  day  he  and  his  will  gather  together  and  set  off  for 
somewhere  else,  many  parishes  away,  to  study  a  new 
collection  of  humans  there — and  in  the  aspen  grove 
never  a  finch  to  be  seen.  And  it  may  be  a  whole  week 
before  a  new  flock  of  this  winged  life  appears  and 
settles  in  the  same  place.  .  .  .  Herregud!  how  many  a 
time  have  I  watched  the  finches  and  their  doings,  and 
found  pleasure  in  all. 

One  day  Falkenberg  declares  he  is  all  right  again- 
now.      Going  to   save   up   and   put   aside   a   hundred 
Kroner  this  winter,   out  of  tuning  pianos  and  felling 
trees,  and  then  make  it  up  again  with  Emma.     I,  too, 
he  suggests,  would  be  better  advised  to  give  over  sighing 


WANDERERS  57 

for  ladies  of  high  degree,  and  go  back  to  my  own  rank 
and  station. 

Falkenberg  was  right. 

On  Saturday  evening  we  stopped  work  a  trifle  earlier 
than  usual  to  go  up  and  get  some  things  from  the 
store.  We  wanted  shirts,  tobacco,  and  wine. 

While  we  were  in  the  store  I  caught  sight  of  a  little 
workbox,  ornamented  with  shells,  of  the  kind  seafaring 
men  used  to  buy  in  the  old  days  at  Amsterdam,  and 
bring  home  to  their  girls  ;  now  the  Germans  make 
them  by  the  thousand.  I  bought  the  workbox,  with 
the  idea  of  taking  out  one  of  the  shells  to  serve  as  a 
thumbnail  for  my  pipe. 

"What  d'you  want  with  a  workbox?"  asked  Fal- 
kenberg. "Is  it  for  Emma,  what?"  He  grew  jealous 
at  the  thought,  and,  not  to  be  outdone,  he  bought  a 
silk  handkerchief  to  give  her  himself. 

On  the  way  back  we  sampled  the  wine,  and  got 
talking.  Falkenberg  was  still  jealous,  so  I  took  out 
the  workbox,  chose  the  shell  I  wanted,  and  picked  it  off 
and  gave  him  the  box.  After  that  we  were  friends 
again. 

It  was  getting  dark  now,  and  there  was  no  moon. 
Suddenly  we  heard  the  sound  of  a  concertina  from  a 
house  up  on  a  hillside  ;  we  could  see  there  was  dancing 
within,  from  the  way  the  light  came  and  went  like  a 
lighthouse  beam. 

"  Let's  go  up  and  look,"  said  Falkenberg. 

Coming  up  to  the  house,  we  found  a  little  group  of 
lads  and  girls  outside  taking  the  air.  Emma  was  there 
as  well. 

•  "Why,  there's  Emma!"  cried  Falkenberg  cheerily, 
not  in  the  least  put  out  to  find  she  had  gone  without 
him.  "  Emma,  here,  I've  got  something  for  you  !  " 

He  reckoned  to  make  all  good  with  a  word,  but  Emma 
turned  away  from  him  and  went  indoors.  Then,  when 


58  WANDERERS 

he  moved  to  go  after  her,  others  barred  his  way, 
hinting1  pretty  plainly  that  he  wasn't  wanted  there. 

"  But  Emma  is  there.     Ask  her  to  come  out." 

"  Emma's  not  coming  out.  She's  here  with  Markus 
Shoemaker." 

Falkenberg  stood  there  helpless.  He  had  been  cold 
to  Emma  now  for  so  long  that  she  had  given  him  up. 
And,  seeing  him  stand  there  stupidly  agape,  some  of 
the  girls  began  to  make  game  of  him  :  had  she  left 
him  all  alone,  then,  and  what  would  he  ever  do  now, 
poor  fellow  ? 

Falkenberg  set  his  bottle  to  his  lips  and  drank  before 
the  eyes  of  all,  then  wiped  his  mouth  with  the  back  of 
his  hand  and  passed  to  the  nearest  man.  There  was 
a  better  feeling  now  towards  us  ;  we  were  good  fellows, 
with  bottles  in  our  pockets,  and  willing  to  pass  them 
round  ;  moreover,  we  were  strangers  in  the  place,  and 
that  was  always  something  new.  Also,  Falkenberg 
said  many  humorous  things  of  Markus  Shoemaker, 
whom  he  persisted  in  calling  Lukas. 

The  dance  was  still  going  on  inside,  but  none  of  the 
girls  left  us  to  go  in  and  join. 

"  I'll  bet  you  now,"  said  Falkenberg,  with  a  swagger, 
"  that  Emma  'd  be  only  too  glad  to  be  out  here  with  us." 

Helene  and  Ronnaug  and  Sara  were  there  ;  every 
time  they  drank,  they  gave  their  hands  prettily  by  way 
of  thanks,  as  the  custom  is,  but  some  of  the  others 
that  had  learned  a  trifle  of  town  manners  said  only, 
"  Takfor  Skjcenken"  and  no  more.  Helene  was  to  be 
Falkenberg's  girl,  it  seemed  ;  he  put  his  arm  round  her 
waist  and  said  she  was  his  for  to-night.  And  when 
they  moved  off  farther  and  farther  away  from  the  rest 
of  us,  none  called  to  them  to  come  back  ;  we  paired 
off,  all  of  us,  after  a  while,  and  went  our  separate  ways 
into  the  woods.  I  went  with  Sara. 

When  we  came  out  from  the  wood  again,  there  stood 


WANDERERS  59 

R0nnaug  still  taking  the  air.  Strange  girl,  had  she 
been  standing  there  alone  all  the  time  ?  I  took  her 
hand  and  talked  to  her  a  little,  but  she  only  smiled 
to  all  I  said  and  made  no  answer.  We  went  off  towards 
the  wood,  and  Sara  called  after  us  in  the  darkness : 
"  Ronnaug,  come  now  and  let's  go  home."  But 
Ronnaug  made  no  answer  ;  it  was  little  she  said  at 
all.  Soft,  white  as  milk,  and  tall,  and  still. 

XX 

The  first  snow  is  come  ;  it  thaws  again  at  once, 
but  winter  is  not  far  off,  and  we  are  nearing  the  end 
of  our  woodcutting  now  at  0vreb0 — another  week  or 
so,  perhaps,  no  more.  What  then  ?  There  was  work 
on  the  railway  line  up  on  the  hills,  or  perhaps  more 
woodcutting  at  some  other  place  we  might  come  to. 
Falkenberg  was  for  trying  the  railway. 

But  I  couldn't  get  done  with  my  machine  in  so  short 
a  time.  We'd  each  our  own  affairs  to  take  our  time  ; 
apart  from  the  machine,  there  was  that  thumbnail  for 
the  pipe  I  wanted  to  finish,  and  the  evenings  came  out 
all  too  short.  As  for  Falkenberg,  he  had  made  it  up 
with  Emma  again.  And  that  was  a  difficult  matter 
and  took  time.  She  had  been  going  about  with 
Markus  Shoemaker,  'twas  true,  but  Falkenberg  for 
his  part  could  not  deny  having  given  Helene  presents — 
a  silk  handkerchief  and  a  workbox  set  with  shells. 

Falkenberg  was  troubled,  and  said  : 

"  Everything  is  wrong,  somehow.  Nothing  but 
bother  and  worry  and  foolery." 

"Why,  as  to  that  ..." 

"That's  what  I  call  it,  anyway,  if  you  want  to  know. 
She  won't  come  up  in  the  hills  as  we  said." 

"It'll  be  Markus  Shoemaker,  then,  that's  keeping 
her  back?" 


60  WANDERERS 

Falkenberg  was  gloomily  silent.     Then,  after  a  pause : 

"  They  wouldn't  even  have  me  go  on  singing." 

We  got  to  talking  of  the  Captain  and  his  wife. 
Falkenberg  had  an  ill-foreboding  all  was  not  as  it 
might  be  between  them. 

Gossiping  fool !     I  put  in  a  word  : 

"You'll  excuse  me,  but  you  don't  know  what  you 
are  talking  about." 

"Ho!"  said  he  angrily.  And,  growing  more  and 
more  excited,  he  went  on:  "Have  you  ever  seen 
them,  now,  hanging  about  after  each  other?  I've 
never  heard  them  say  so  much  as  a  word." 

The  fool ! — the  churl  I 

"Don't  know  what  is  the  matter  with  you  to-day 
the  way  you're  sawing.  Look — what  do  you  think  of 
that  for  a  cut  ?  " 

"  Me?     We're  two  of  us  in  it,  anyway,  so  there." 

"Good!  Then  we'll  say  it's  the  thaw.  Let's  get 
back  to  the  axe  again." 

We  went  on  working  each  by  himself  for  a  while, 
angered  and  out  of  humour  both.  What  was  the  lie 
he  had  dared  to  say  of  them,  that  they  never  so  much 
as  spoke  to  each  other  ?  But,  Heaven,  he  was  right ! 
Falkenberg  had  a  keen  scent  for  such  things.  He 
knew  something  of  men  and  women. 

"At  any  rate,  they  speak  nicely  of  each  other  to  us," 
I  said. 

Falkenberg  went  on  with  his  work. 

I  thought  over  the  whole  thing  again. 

"Well,  perhaps  you  may  be  right  as  far  as  that 
goes,  that  it's  not  the  wedded  life  dreamers  have 
dreamed  of,  still  .  .  ." 

But  it  was  no  good  talking  to  Falkenberg  in  that 
style  ;  he  understood  never  a  word. 

When  we  stopped  work  at  noon,  I  took  up  the  talk 
again. 


WANDERERS  61 

"  Didn't  you  say  once  if  he  wasn't  decent  to  her 
there'd  be  trouble?" 

"Yes,  I  did." 

"Well,  there  hasn't  been  trouble." 

"Did  I  ever  say  he  wasn't  decent  to  her?"  said 
Falkenberg  irritably.  "  No,  but  they're  sick  and 
wearied  of  each  other — that's  what  it  is.  When  one 
comes  in,  the  other  goes  out.  Whenever  he  starts 
talking  of  anything  out  in  the  kitchen,  her  eyes  go 
all  dead  and  dull,  and  she  doesn't  listen." 

We  got  to  work  again  with  the  axe,  each  thinking 
his  own  ways. 

"I  doubt  but  I'll  need  to  give  him  a  thrashing," 
said  Falkenberg. 

"Who?" 

"Lukas.  .  .  ." 

I  got  my  pipe  done,  and  sent  Emma  in  with  it  to  the 
Captain.  The  nail  had  turned  out  fine  and  natural  this 
time,  and  with  the  fine  tools  I  had  now,  I  was  able  to 
cut  well  down  into  the  thumb  and  fasten  it  on  the 
underside,  so  that  the  two  little  copper  pins  would  not 
show.  I  was  pleased  enough  with  the  work. 

The  Captain  came  out  while  we  were  at  supper  that 
evening,  to  thank  me  for  the  pipe.  At  the  same  time, 
I  noticed  that  Falkenberg  was  right ;  no  sooner  had 
the  Captain  come  out  than  Fruen  went  in. 

The  Captain  praised  my  pipe,  and  asked  how  I  had 
managed  to  fix  the  nail  ;  he  said  I  was  an  artist  and 
a  master.  All  the  others  were  standing  by  and  heard 
his  words — and  it  counted  for  something  to  be  called 
an  artist  by  the  Captain  himself.  I  believe  I  could 
have  won  Emma  at  that  moment. 

That  night  I  learned  to  shiver  and  shake. 

The  corpse  of  a  woman  came  up  to  me  where  I  lay 
in  the  loft,  and  stretched  out  its  left  hand  to  show  me : 
the  thumbnail  was  missing.  I  shook  my  head,  to  say 


62  WANDERERS 

I  had  had  a  thumbnail  once,  but  I  had  thrown  it  away, 
and  used  a  shell  instead.  But  the  corpse  stood  there 
all  the  same,  and  there  I  lay,  shivering,  cold  with  fear. 
Then  I  managed  to  say  I  couldn't  help  it  now  ;  in 
God's  name,  go  away  !  And,  Our  Father  which  art 
in  heaven  .  .  .  The  corpse  came  straight  towards 
me  ;  I  thrust  out  two  clenched  fists  and  gave  an  icy 
shriek — and  there  I  was,  crushing  Falkenberg  flat 
against  the  wall. 

"What  is  it?"  cried  Falkenberg.  "In  Heaven's 
name  .  .  ." 

I  woke,  dripping  with  sweat,  and  lay  there  with 
open  eyes,  watching  the  corpse  as  it  vanished  quite 
slowly  in  the  dark  of  the  room. 

"It's  the  corpse,"  I  groaned.  "Come  to  ask  for 
her  thumbnail."  Falkenberg  sat  straight  up  in  bed, 
wide  awake  all  at  once. 

"  I  saw  her,"  he  said. 

"Did  you  see  her,  too?  Did  you  see  her  thumb? 
Ugh!" 

"  I  wouldn't  be  in  your  shoes  now  for  anything." 

"  Let  me  lie  inside,  against  the  wall,"  I  begged. 

"  And  what  about  me  ?  " 

"  It  won't  hurt  you  ;  you  can  lie  outside  all  right." 

"And  let  her  come  and  take  me  first?  Not  if  I 
know  it." 

And  at  that  Falkenberg  lay  down  again  and  pulled 
the  rug  over  his  eyes. 

I  thought  for  a  moment  of  going  down  to  sleep  with 
Fetter  ;  he  was  getting  better  now,  and  there  was  no  fear 
of  infection.  But  I  was  afraid  to  go  down  the  stairs. 

It  was  a  terrible  night. 

Next  morning  I  searched  high  and  low  for  the  nail, 
and  found  it  on  the  floor  at  last,  among  the  shavings 
and  sawdust.  I  took  it  out  and  buried  it  on  the  way 
to  the  wood. 


WANDERERS  63 

"It's  a  question  if  you  oughtn't  to  carry  it  back 
where  you  took  it  from,"  said  Falkenberg. 

"  Why,  that's  miles  away— a  whole  long-  journey.  .  .  ." 

"They  won't  ask  about  that  if  you're  called  to  do  it. 
Maybe  she  won't  care  about  having  a  thumb  in  one  place 
and  a  thumbnail  in  another." 

But  I  was  brave  enough  now  ;  a  very  desperado  in 
the  daylight.  I  laughed  at  Falkenberg  for  his  super- 
stition, and  told  him  science  had  disposed  of  all  such 
nonsense  long  ago. 

XXI 

One  evening  there  came  visitors  to  the  place,  and 
as  Fetter  was  still  poorly,  and  the  other  lad  was  only 
a  youngster,  I  had  to  go  and  take  out  the  horses. 
A  lady  got  out  of  the  carriage. 

"  Is  anyone  at  home?  "  she  asked. 

The  sound  of  wheels  had  brought  faces  to  the  win- 
dows ;  lamps  were  lit  in  the  rooms  and  passages. 
Fruen  came  out,  calling  : 

"  Is  that  you,  Elisabeth?    I'm  so  glad  you've  come." 

It  was  Frcken  Elisabeth  from  the  vicarage. 

"  Is  he  here?  "  she  asked  in  surprise. 

"Who?" 

It  was  myself  she  meant.  So  she  had  recognised 
me.  .  .  . 

Next  day  the  two  young  ladies  came  out  to  us  in  the 
wood.  At  first  I  was  afraid  lest  some  rumour  of  a 
certain  nightly  ride  on  borrowed  horses  should  have 
reached  the  vicarage,  but  calmed  myself  when  nothing 
was  said  of  it. 

"The  water-pipes  are  doing  nicely,"  said  Froken 
Elisabeth. 

I  was  pleased  to  hear  it. 

"  Water-pipes?  "  said  Fruen  inquiringly. 

"  He  laid  on  a  water-supply  to   the   house  for  us. 


64  WANDERERS 

Pipes  in  the  kitchen  and  upstairs  as  well.  Just  turn  a 
tap  and  there  it  is.  You  ought  to  have  it  done  here." 

"Really,  though?  Could  it  be  done  here,  do  you 
think?" 

I  answered  :  yes,  it  ought  to  be  easy  enough. 

"  Why  didn't  you  speak  to  my  husband  about  it?" 

"I  did  speak  of  it.  He  said  he  would  see  what 
Fruen  thought  about  it." 

Awkward  pause.  So  he  would  not  speak  to  her  even 
of  a  thing  that  so  nearly  concerned  herself.  I  hastened 
to  break  the  silence,  and  said  at  random : 

"Anyhow,  it's  too  late  to  start  this  year  ;  the  winter 
would  be  on  us  before  we  could  get  it  done.  But  next 
spring  ..." 

Fruen  seemed  to  come  back  to  attention  from  some- 
where far  away. 

"Oh  yes,  I  remember  now,  he  did  say  something 
about  it,"  she  said.  "We  talked  it  over.  But  it  was 
too  late  this  year.  .  .  .  Elisabeth,  don't  you  like  watch- 
ing them  felling  trees  ?  " 

We  used  a  rope  now  and  then  to  guide  the  tree  in  its 
fall.  Falkenberg  had  just  fixed  this  rope  high  up,  and 
the  tree  stood  swaying. 

"  What's  that  for  ?" 

"To  make  it  fall  the  right  way,"  I  began.  But 
Fruen  did  not  care  to  listen  to  me  any  more  ;  she 
turned  to  Falkenberg  and  put  the  question  to  him 
directly : 

"  Does  it  matter  which  way  it  falls?" 

Falkenberg  had  to  answer  her. 

"Why,  we'll  need  to  guide  it  a  bit,  so  it  doesn't 
break  down  too  much  of  the  young  growth  when  it 
falls." 

"Did  you  notice,"  said  Fruen  to  her  friend,  "what 
a  voice  he  has?  He's  the  one  that  sings." 

How  I  hated  myself  now  for  having  talked  so  much, 


WANDERERS  65 

instead  of  reading  her  wish  !  But  at  least  I  would 
show  her  that  I  understood  the  hint.  And,  moreover, 
it  was  Froken  Elisabeth  and  no  other  I  was  in  love 
with  ;  she  was  not  full  of  changing  humours,  and  was 
just  as  pretty  as  the  other — ay,  a  thousand  times 
prettier.  I  would  go  and  take  work  at  her  father's 
place.  ...  I  took  care  now,  whenever  Fruen  spoke,  to 
look  first  at  Falkenberg  and  then  at  her,  keeping  back 
my  answer  as  if  fearing  to  speak  out  of  my  turn.  I 
think,  too,  she  began  to  feel  a  little  sorry  when  she 
noticed  this,  for  once  she  said,  with  a  little  troubled 
smile :  "Yes,  yes,  it  was  you  I  asked." 

That  smile  with  her  words  .  .  .  There  came  a  whirl 
of  joy  at  my  heart ;  I  began  swinging  the  axe  with  all 
the  strength  I  had  gained  from  long  use,  and  made  fine 
deep  cuts.  I  heard  only  a  word  now  and  then  of  what 
they  said. 

"They  want  me  to  sing  to  them  this  evening,"  said 
Falkenberg,  when  they  had  gone. 

Evening  came. 

I  stood  out  in  the  courtyard,  talking  to  the  Captain. 
Three  or  four  days  more,  and  our  work  on  the  timber 
would  be  at  an  end. 

"And  where  will  you  be  going  then?"  asked  the 
Captain. 

"  We  were  going  to  get  work  on  the  railway." 

"I  might  find  you  something  to  do  here,"  said  the 
Captain.  "  I  want  the  drive  down  to  the  high  road 
carried  a  different  way  ;  it's  too  steep  as  it  is.  Come 
and  see  what  I  mean." 

He  took  me  round  to  the  south  side  of  the  house,  and 
pointed  this  way  and  that,  though  it  was  already 
dark. 

"  And  by  the  time  that's  done,  and  one  or  two  other 
little  things,  we  shall  be  well  on  to  the  spring,"  he  said. 
"And  then  there'll  be  the  water,  as  you  said.  And, 
5 


66  WANDERERS 

besides,  there's  Fetter  laid  up  still ;  we  can't  get  along 
like  this.  I  must  have  another  hand  to  help." 

Suddenly  we  heard  Falkenberg  singing.  There  was 
a  light  in  the  parlour  ;  Falkenberg  was  in  there,  singing 
to  an  accompaniment  on  the  piano.  The  music  welled 
out  towards  us — the  man  had  a  remarkable  voice — and 
made  me  quiver  against  my  will. 

The  Captain  started,  and  glanced  up  at  the  windows. 

"No,"  he  said  suddenly;  "I  think,  after  all,  we'd 
better  leave  the  drive  till  next  spring  as  well.  How 
soon  did  you  say  you'd  be  through  with  the  timber  ?  " 

"Three  or  four  days." 

"  Good  !  We'll  say  three  or  four  days  more  for  that, 
and  then  finish  for  this  year." 

A  strangely  sudden  decision,  I  thought  to  myself. 
And  aloud  I  said  : 

"There's  no  reason  why  we  shouldn't  do  the  road 
work  in  winter.  It's  better  in  some  ways.  There's  the 
blasting,  and  getting  up  the  loads.  ..." 

"Yes,  I  know  .  .  .  but  .  .  .  well,  I  think  I  must  go 
in  now  and  listen  to  this.  .  .  ." 

The  Captain  went  indoors. 

It  crossed  my  mind  that  he  did  so  out  of  courtesy, 
wishing  to  make  himself,  as  it  were,  responsible  for 
having  Falkenberg  in  the  parlour.  But  I  fancied  he 
would  rather  have  stayed  talking  with  me. 

Which  was  a  coxcomb's  thought,  and  altogether 
wrong. 

XXII 

I  had  got  the  biggest  parts  of  my  machine  done,  and 
could  fix  them  together  and  try  it.  There  was  an  old 
stump  by  the  barn-bridge  from  an  aspen  that  had  been 
blown  down  ;  I  fixed  my  apparatus  to  that,  and  found 
at  once  that  the  saw  would  cut  all  right.  Aha,  now, 
what  have  you  got  to  say  ?  Here's  the  problem  solved  ! 


WANDERERS  67 

I  had  bought  a  huge  saw-blade  and  cut  teeth  all  down 
the  back  ;  these  teeth  fitted  into  a  little  cogwheel  set  to 
take  the  friction,  and  driven  forward  by  the  spring. 
The  spring  itself  I  had  fashioned  originally  from  a 
broad  staybusk  Emma  had  given  me,  but,  when  I  came 
to  test  it,  it  proved  too  weak  ;  so  I  made  another  from 
a  saw-blade  only  six  millimetres  across,  after  I  had  first 
filed  off  the  teeth.  This  new  spring,  however,  was  too 
strong  ;  I  had  to  manage  as  best  I  could  by  winding  it 
only  half-way  up,  and  then,  when  it  ran  down,  half-way 
up  again. 

I  knew  too  little  theory,  worse  luck  ;  it  was  a  case 
of  feeling  my  way  at  every  step,  and  this  made  it  a 
slow  proceeding.  The  conical  gear,  for  instance,  I 
found  too  heavy  when  I  came  to  put  it  into  practice, 
and  had  to  devise  a  different  system  altogether. 

It  was  on  a  Sunday  that  I  fixed  my  apparatus  to  the 
stump  ;  the  new  white  woodwork  and  the  shining  saw- 
blade  glittered  in  the  sun.  Soon  faces  appeared  at 
the  windows,  and  the  Captain  himself  came.  He  did 
not  answer  my  greeting,  so  intent  was  he  on  the 
machine. 

"  Well,  how  do  you  think  it  will  work  ?  " 

I  set  it  going. 

"  Upon  my  soul,  I  believe  it  will.  .  .  ." 

Fruen  and  Froken  Elisabeth  came  out,  all  the  maids 
came  out,  Falkenberg  came  out,  and  I  let  them  see  it 
work.  Aha,  what  did  I  say? 

Said  the  Captain  presently : 

"  Won't  it  take  up  too  much  time,  fixing  the  appara- 
tus to  one  tree  after  another  ?  " 

"  Part  of  the  time  will  be  made  up  by  easier  work. 
No  need  to  keep  stopping  for  breath." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because  the  lateral  pressure's  effected  by  the  spring. 
It's  just  that  pressure  that  makes  the  hardest  work." 


68  WANDERERS 

"  And  what  about  the  rest  of  the  time?  " 

"  I'm  going  to  discard  this  screw-on  arrangement 
and  have  a  clamp  instead,  that  can  be  pressed  down  by 
the  foot.  A  clamp  with  teeth  to  give  a  better  grip, 
and  adjustable  to  any  sized  timber." 

I  showed  him  a  drawing  of  this  clamp  arrangement ; 
I  had  not  had  time  to  make  the  thing  itself. 

The  Captain  took  a  turn  at  the  saw  himself, 
noticing  carefully  the  amount  of  force  required.  He 
said  : 

"  It's  a  question  whether  it  won't  be  too  heavy,  pull- 
ing a  saw  twice  the  width  of  an  ordinary  woodcutting 
saw. " 

"Ay,"  agreed  Falkenberg  ;  "it  looks  that  way." 

All  looked  at  Falkenberg,  and  then  at  me.  It  was 
my  turn  now. 

"A  single  man  can  push  a  goods  truck  with  full  load 
on  rails,"  I  said.  "And  here  there'll  be  two  men  to 
work  a  saw  with  the  blade  running  on  two  rollers  over 
oiled  steel  guides.  It'll  be  easier  to  work  than  the  old 
type  of  saw — a  single  man  could  work  it,  if  it  came  to 
a  pinch." 

"  It  sounds  almost  impossible." 

"Well,  we  shall  see." 

Froken  Elisabeth  asked  half  in  jest : 

"  But  tell  me — I  don't  understand  these  things  a  bit, 
you  know — why  wouldn't  it  be  better  to  saw  a  tree 
across  in  the  old  way  ?  " 

"  He's  trying  to  get  rid  of  the  lateral  pressure  ;  that's 
a  strain  on  the  men  working,"  explained  the  Captain. 
"With  a  saw  like  this  you  can,  as  he  says,  make  a 
horizontal  cut  with  the  same  sort  of  pressure  you  would 
use  for  an  ordinary  saw  cutting  vertically  down.  It's 
simply  this  :  you  press  downwards,  but  the  pressure's 
transmitted  sideways.  By  the  way,"  he  went  on,  turn- 
ing to  me,  "has  it  struck  you  there  might  be  a  danger 


WANDERERS  69 

of  pressing-  down  the  ends  of  the  blade,  and  making  a 
convex  cut  ?  " 

"That's  obviated  in  the  first  place  by  these  rollers 
under  the  blade." 

"True;  that  goes  for  something.  And  in  the  second 
place  ?  " 

"  In  the  second  place,  it  would  be  impossible  to  make 
a  convex  cut  with  this  apparatus  even  if  you  wanted  to. 
The  blade,  you  see,  has  a  T-shaped  back  ;  that  makes 
it  practically  impossible  to  bend  it." 

I  fancy  the  Captain  put  forward  some  of  his  objections 
against  his  own  conviction.  Knowing  all  he  did,  he 
could  have  answered  them  himself  better  than  I.  On 
the  other  hand,  there  were  points  he  did  not  notice,  but 
which  caused  me  some  anxiety.  A  machine  that  was 
to  be  carried  about  in  the  woods  must  not  be  made 
with  delicate  mechanism.  I  was  afraid,  for  instance, 
that  the  two  steel  guides  might  be  easily  injured, 
and  either  broken  away,  or  so  bent  that  the  wheels 
would  jam.  No ;  the  guides  would  have  to  be 
dispensed  with,  and  the  wheels  set  under  the  back 
of  the  saw.  Altogether,  my  machine  was  far  from 
complete.  .  .  . 

The  Captain  went  over  to  Falkenberg  and  said : 

"I  want  you  to  drive  the  ladies  to-morrow;  they're 
going  some  way,  and  Fetter's  not  well  enough,  it  seems. 
Do  you  think  you  could?" 

"  Surely,"  said  Falkenberg  ;  "and  welcome." 

"  Frokenen's  going  back  to  the  vicarage,"  said  the 
Captain,  as  he  turned  to  go.  "You'll  have  to  be  out 
by  six  o'clock." 

Falkenberg  was  in  high  spirits  at  this  mark  of 
confidence,  and  jestingly  hinted  that  I  envied  him  the 
same.  Truth  to  tell,  I  did  not  envy  him  there  in  the 
least.  I  was  perhaps  a  little  hurt  to  find  my  comrade 
so  preferred  before  myself,  but  I  would  most  certainly 


70  WANDERERS 

rather  stay  here  by  myself  in  the  quiet  of  the  woods 
than  sit  on  a  box  and  drive  in  the  cold. 

Falkenberg  was  thoroughly  pleased  with  himself. 

"You're  looking"  simply  green  with  envy  now,"  he 
said.  "You'd  better  take  something  for  it.  Try  a 
little  castor-oil,  now,  do." 

He  was  busy  all  the  forenoon  getting  ready  for  the 
journey,  washing  down  the  carriage,  greasing  the 
wheels,  and  cleaning  the  harness  after.  I  helped  him 
with  the  work. 

"  I  don't  believe  you  can  drive  a  pair  at  all,  really,"  I 
said,  just  to  annoy  him.  "  But  I'll  give  you  a  bit  of  a 
lesson,  if  you  like,  before  you  start." 

"You've  got  it  badly,"  he  answered.  "It's  a  pity 
to  see  a  man  looking  like  that,  when  a  dose  of  castor- 
oil  would  put  him  right." 

It  was  like  that  all  the  time — jesting  and  merriment 
from  one  to  the  other. 

That  evening  the  Captain  came  out  to  me. 

"I  didn't  want  to  send  you  down  with  the  ladies," 
he  said,  "because  of  your  work.  But  now  Froken 
Elisabeth  says  she  wants  you  to  drive,  and  not  the 
other  man." 

"Me?" 

"  Yes.     Because  she  knows  you." 

"Why,  as  for  that,  'twould  have  been  safe  enough 
as  it  was." 

"  Do  you  mind  going  at  all  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Good  !     Then  that's  settled." 

This  thought  came  into  my  mind  at  once  :  "  Aha,  it's 
me  the  ladies  fancy,  after  all,  because  I'm  an  inventor 
and  proprietor  of  a  patent  saw,  and  not  bad  looking  when 
I'm  properly  got  up — not  bad  looking  by  any  means." 

But  the  Captain  explained  things  to  Falkenberg  in 
an  altogether  different  way,  that  upset  my  vanity 


WANDERERS  7 1 

completely :  Froken  Elisabeth  wanted  me  to  go  down 
to  the  vicarage  once  more,  so  that  her  father  might 
have  another  try  at  getting  me  to  take  work  there. 
She'd  promised  him  to  do  so. 

I  thought  and  thought  over  this  explanation. 

"  But  if  you  get  taken  on  at  the  vicarage,  then  it's 
all  off  with  our  railway  work,"  said  Falkenberg. 

"I  shan't,"  said  I. 

XXIII 

I  started  early  in  the  morning  with  the  two  ladies  in 
a  closed  carriage.  It  was  more  than  a  trifle  cold  at 
first,  and  my  woollen  rug  came  in  very  handy ;  I  used 
it  alternately  to  put  over  my  knees  and  wrap  round 
my  shoulders. 

We  drove  the  way  I  had  walked  up  with  Falkenberg, 
and  I  recognised  place  after  place  as  we  passed.  There 
and  there  he  had  tuned  the  pianos  ;  there  we  had  heard 
the  grey  goose  passing.  .  .  .  The  sun  came  up,  and  it 
grew  warmer ;  the  hours  went  by  ;  then,  coming  to 
cross-roads,  the  ladies  knocked  at  the  window  and  said 
it  was  dinner-time. 

I  could  see  by  the  sun  it  was  too  early  for  the  ladies' 
dinner-time,  though  well  enough  for  me,  seeing  I  took 
my  dinner  with  Falkenberg  at  noon.  So  I  drove  on. 

"Can't  you  stop?  "  they  cried. 

"  I  thought  .  .  .  you  don't  generally  have  dinner  till 
three.  .  .  ." 

"  But  we're  hungry." 

I  turned  off  aside  from  the  road,  took  out  the  horses, 
and  fed  and  watered  them.  Had  these  strange  beings 
set  their  dinner-time  by  mine? 

"  Vcersaagod!" 

But  I  felt  I  could  not  well  sit  down  to  eat  with  them, 
so  I  remained  standing  by  the  horses. 


72  WANDERERS 

' 'Well?"  said  Fruen. 

"Thank  you  kindly,"  said  I,  and  waited  to  be  served. 

They  helped  me,  both  of  them,  as  if  they  could  never 
give  me  enough.  I  drew  the  corks  of  the  beer  bottles, 
and  was  given  a  liberal  share  here  as  well ;  it  was  a 
picnic  by  the  roadside — a  little  wayfaring  adventure  in 
my  life.  And  Fruen  I  dared  look  at  least,  for  fear  she 
should  be  hurt. 

And  they  talked  and  jested  with  each  other,  and  now 
and  again  with  me,  out  of  their  kindliness,  that  I 
might  feel  at  ease.  Said  Froken  Elisabeth  : 

"Oh,  I  think  it's  just  lovely  to  have  meals  out  of 
doors.  Don't  you  ?  " 

And  here  she  said  De,  instead  of  Du,  as  she  had  said 
before. 

"It's  not  so  new  to  him,  you  know,"  said  Fruen; 
"  he  has  his  dinner  out  in  the  woods  every  day." 

Eh,  but  that  voice  of  hers,  and  her  eyes,  and  the 
womanly,  tender  look  of  the  hand  that  held  the  glass 
towards  me.  ...  I  might  have  said  something  in 
turn — have  told  them  this  or  that  of  strange  things 
from  out  in  the  wide  world,  for  their  amusement ;  I 
could  have  set  those  ladies  right  when  they  chattered 
on,  all  ignorant  of  the  way  of  riding  camels  or  of 
harvest  in  the  vineyards.  .  .  . 

I  made  haste  to  finish  my  meal,  and  moved  away. 
I  took  the  buckets  and  went  down  for  more  water  for 
the  horses,  though  there  was  no  need.  I  sat  down  by 
the  stream  and  stayed  there. 

After  a  little  while  Fruen  called  : 

"You  must  come  and  stand  by  the  horses;  we  are 
going  off  to  see  if  we  can  find  some  wild  hops  or  some- 
thing nice." 

But  when  I  came  up  they  decided  that  the  wild  hops 
were  over,  and  there  were  no  rowan  berries  left  now, 
nor  any  richly  coloured  leaves. 


WANDERERS  73 

"  There's  nothing  in  the  woods  now,"  said  Frokenen. 
And  she  spoke  to  me  directly  once  again:  "Well, 
there's  no  churchyard  here  for  you  to  roam  about 
in." 

"No." 

"You  must  miss  it,  I  should  think."  And  then  she 
went  on  to  explain  to  Fruen  that  I  was  a  curious 
person  who  wandered  about  in  graveyards  by  night 
and  had  meetings  with  the  dead.  And  it  was  there  I 
invented  my  machines  and  things. 

By  way  of  saying  something,  I  asked  about  young 
Erik.  He  had  been  thrown  by  a  runaway  horse  and 
badly  hurt.  .  .  . 

"He's  better  now,"  said  Frokenen  shortly. — "Are 
you  ready  to  go  on  again,  Lovise  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed.     Can  we  start?  " 

"  Whenever  you  please,"  I  answered. 

And  we  drove  on  again. 

The  hours  pass,  the  sun  draws  lower  down  the  sky, 
and  it  is  cooler — a  chill  in  the  air  ;  then  later  wind  and 
wet,  half  rain,  half  snow.  We  passed  the  annexe 
church,  a  couple  of  wayside  stores,  and  farm  after 
farm. 

Then  came  a  knocking  on  the  window  of  the 
carriage. 

"Wasn't  it  here  you  went  riding  one  night  on 
borrowed  horses  ?"  said  Frokenen  laughingly.  "Oh, 
we  know  all  about  it,  never  fear !  " 

And  both  the  ladies  were  highly  amused. 

I  answered  on  a  sudden  thought : 

"  And  yet  your  father  would  have  me  to  take  service 
with  him — or  wasn't  it  so  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"While  I  think  of  it,  Freken,  how  did  your  father 
know  I  was  working  for  Captain  Falkenberg  ?  You 
were  surprised  yourself  to  find  me  there." 


74  WANDERERS 

She  thought  quickly,  and  glanced  at  Fruen  and 
said : 

"  I  wrote  home  and  told  them." 

Fruen  cast  down  her  eyes. 

Now  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  young  lady  was 
inventing.  But  she  put  in  excellent  answers,  and  tied 
my  tongue.  It  sounded  all  so  natural ;  she  writes  an 
ordinary  letter  to  her  people  at  home,  and  puts  in 
something  like  this :  "  And  who  do  you  think  is  here? 
The  man  who  did  those  water-pipes  for  us  ;  he's  felling 
timber  now  for  Captain  Falkenberg.  ..." 

But  when  we  reached  the  vicarage,  the  new  hand 
was  engaged  already,  and  there  at  work — had  been 
there  three  weeks  past.  He  came  out  to  take  the 
horses. 

After  that,  I  thought  and  thought  again — why  had 
they  chosen  me  to  drive  them  down  ?  Perhaps  it  was 
meant  as  a  little  treat  for  me,  as  against  Falkenberg's 
being  asked  into  the  parlour  to  sing.  But  surely — 
didn't  they  understand,  these  people,  that  I  was  a  man 
who  had  nearly  finished  a  new  machine,  and  would 
soon  have  no  need  of  any  such  trifles ! 

I  went  about  sharp  and  sullen  and  ill-pleased  with 
myself,  had  my  meal  in  the  kitchen,  where  Oline  gave 
me  her  blessing  for  the  water-pipes,  and  went  out  to 
tend  my  horses.  I  took  my  rug  and  went  over  to  the 
barn  in  the  dark.  .  .  . 

I  woke  to  find  someone  touching  me.  It  was  the 
vicar's  wife. 

"You  mustn't  lie  here,  you  know;  it's  simply  freez- 
ing," she  said.  "Come  with  me,  and  I'll  show 
you  ..." 

We  talked  of  that  a  little  ;  I  was  not  inclined  to 
move,  and  at  last  she  sat  down  herself  instead.  A 
flame  she  was — nay,  a  daughter  of  Nature.  Within 
her  the  music  of  a  rapturous  dance  was  playing  yet. 


WANDERERS  75 

XXIV 

Next  morning  I  was  more  content  with  things.  I  had 
cooled  down  and  turned  sensible — I  was  resigned.  If 
only  I  had  seen  before  what  was  best  for  me,  I  might 
have  taken  service  here  at  the  vicarage,  and  been  the 
first  of  all  equals.  Ay,  and  settled  down  and  taken 
root  in  a  quiet  countryish  life. 

Fru  Falkenberg  stood  out  in  the  courtyard.  Her 
bright  figure  stood  like  a  pillar,  stood  there  free  and 
erect  in  the  open  courtyard,  and  her  head  was  bare. 

I  greeted  her  Godmorgen. 

"  Godmorgen!"  she  answered  again,  and  came  striding 
towards  me.  Then  very  quietly  she  asked  :  "  I  wanted 
to  see  how  they  put  you  up  last  night,  only  I  couldn't 
get  away.  That  is,  of  course,  I  got  away,  but  .  .  . 
you  weren't  in  the  barn,  were  you  ?  " 

The  last  words  came  to  me  as  if  in  a  dream,  and  I 
did  not  answer. 

"Well,  why  don't  you  answer  ?  " 

"Yes  .  .  .  in  the  barn?     Yes." 

"  Were  you  ?     And  was  it  quite  all  right  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"Oh,  well,  then  .  .  .  yes — yes.  We  shall  be  going 
back  sometime  to-day." 

She  turned  and  walked  away,  her  face  all  in  one 
great  flush.  .  .  . 

Harald  came  and  asked  me  to  make  a  kite. 

"A  kite?"  I  answered  all  confusedly.  "Ay,  I'll 
make  you  a  kite,  a  huge  one,  that'll  go  right  up  to  the 
clouds.  That  I  will." 

We  worked  at  it  for  a  couple  of  hours,  Harald  and  I. 
He  was  good  and  quick,  and  so  innocent  in  his  eager- 
ness ;  I,  for  my  part,  was  thinking  of  anything  but  kites. 
We  made  a  tail  several  metres  long,  and  busied  our- 


76  WANDERERS 

selves  with  paste  and  lashing-  and  binding ;  twice 
Froken  Elisabeth  came  out  to  look  on.  She  may  have 
been  every  bit  as  sweet  and  bright  as  before,  but  I  cared 
nothing  for  what  she  was,  and  gave  no  thought  to  her. 

Then  came  the  order  to  harness  ready  to  start.  I 
should  have  obeyed  that  order  at  once,  for  we  had  a 
long  drive  before  us,  but,  instead,  I  sent  Harald  in  to 
ask  if  we  might  wait  just  half  an  hour  more.  And  we 
worked  on  till  the  kite  was  finished.  Next  day,  when 
the  paste  was  dry,  Harald  could  send  up  his  kite  and 
watch  it  rise,  and  feel  unknown  emotion  within  him, 
as  I  did  now. 

Ready  to  start. 

Fruen  comes  out ;  all  the  family  are  there  to  see  her 
off.  The  priest  and  his  wife  both  know  me  again, 
return  my  greeting,  and  say  a  few  words — but  I  heard 
nothing-  said  of  my  taking  service  with  them  now. 
The  priest  knew  me  again — yes  ;  and  his  blue-eyed  wife 
looked  at  me  with  that  sidelong  glance  of  hers  as  she 
knew  me  again,  for  all  she  had  known  me  the  night 
before  as  well. 

Froken  Elisabeth  brings  out  some  food  for  the 
journey,  and  wraps  her  friend  up  well. 

"Sure  you'll  be  warm  enough,  now?"  she  asks  for 
the  last  time. 

"  Quite  sure,  thanks  ;  it's  more  than  warm  enough 
with  all  these.  Farvel,  Farvel." 

"  See  you  drive  as  nicely  as  you  did  yesterday,"  says 
Froken,  with  a  nod  to  me  as  well. 

And  we  drove  off. 

The  day  was  raw  and  chilly,  and  I  saw  at  once  that 
Fruen  was  not  warm  enough  with  her  rug. 

We  drive  on  for  hour  after  hour ;  the  horses  know 
they  are  on  the  way  home,  and  trot  without  asking. 
My  bare  hands  stiffen  about  the  reins.  As  we  neared  a 
cottage  a  little  way  from  the  road,  Fruen  knocked  on 


WANDERERS  77 

the  carriage  window  to  say  it  was  dinner-time.  She 
gets  out,  and  her  face  is  pale  with  the  cold. 

"We'll  go  up  there  and  have  dinner,"  she  says. 
"  Come  up  as  soon  as  you're  ready,  and  bring  the 
basket." 

And  she  walked  up  the  hill. 

It  must  be  because  of  the  cold  she  chose  to  eat  in  a 
stranger's  house,  I  thought  to  myself;  she  could  hardly 
be  afraid  of  me.  ...  I  tied  up  the  horses  and  gave 
them  their  fodder.  It  looked  like  rain,  so  I  put  the 
oilskins  over  them,  patted  them,  and  went  up  to  the 
cottage  with  the  basket. 

There  is  only  an  old  woman  at  home.  "  Vcersaagod!  " 
she  says,  and  "  Come  in."  And  she  goes  on  tending 
her  coffee-pot.  Fruen  unpacks  the  basket,  and  says, 
without  looking  at  me  : 

"  I  suppose  I  am  to  help  you  again  to-day?  " 

"Thank  you,  if  you  will." 

We  ate  in  silence,  I  sitting  on  a  little  bench  by  the 
door,  with  my  plate  on  the  seat  beside  me,  Fruen  at 
table,  looking  out  of  the  window  all  the  time,  and 
hardly  eating  anything  at  all.  Now  and  again  she 
exchanges  a  word  with  the  old  woman,  or  glances  at 
my  plate  to  see  if  it  is  empty.  The  little  place  is 
cramped  enough,  with  but  two  steps  from  the  window 
to  where  I  sit ;  so  we  are  sitting  together,  after  all. 

When  the  coffee  is  ready,  I  have  no  room  for  my  cup 
on  the  end  of  the  bench,  but  sit  holding  it  in  my  hand. 
Then  Fruen  turns  full-face  towards  me  calmly,  and 
sajys  with  downcast  eyes  : 

"There  is  room  here." 

I  can  hear  my  own  heart  beating,  and  I  murmur 
something : 

"Thanks  ;  it's  quite  all  right.     I'd  rather  .  .  ." 

No  doubt  but  that  she  is  uneasy  ;  she  is  afraid  lest 
I  should  say  something.  She  sits  once  more  looking 


78  WANDERERS 

away,  but  I  can  see  she  is  breathing  heavily.  Ah, 
she  need  have  no  fear ;  I  would  not  trouble  her  with  so 
much  as  a  word. 

Now  I  had  to  take  the  empty  plate  and  cup  and  set 
them  back  on  the  table,  but  I  feared  to  startle  her  in 
my  approach,  for  she  was  still  sitting  with  averted 
head.  I  made  a  little  noise  with  the  things  to  draw 
her  attention,  set  them  down,  and  thanked  her. 

She  tried  to  put  on  a  housewifely  tone : 

"Won't  you  have  some  more?  I'm  sure  you  can't 
have  ..." 

"  No,  thank  you  very  much.  .  .  .  Shall  I  pack  up  the 
things  now?  But  I  doubt  if  I  can." 

I  happened  to  glance  at  my  hands  ;  they  had  swelled  up 
terribly  in  the  warm  room,  and  were  all  shapeless  and 
heavy  now.  I  could  hardly  pack  up  things  with  hands  like 
that.  She  guessed  my  thought,  looked  first  at  my  hands, 
then  out  across  the  room,  and  said,  with  a  little  smile  : 

"  Have  you  no  gloves  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I  never  wear  them." 

I  went  back  to  my  place,  waiting  till  she  should  have 
packed  up  the  things  so  I  could  carry  the  basket  down. 
Suddenly  she  turned  her  head  towards  me,  still  without 
looking  up,  and  asked  again  : 

"  Where  do  you  come  from  ?  " 

"From  Nordland." 

Pause. 

I  ventured  to  ask  in  my  turn  if  Fruen  had  ever  been 
there. 

"Yes  ;  when  I  was  a  child." 

Then  she  looked  at  her  watch,  as  if  to  check  me  from 
any  more  questions,  and  at  the  same  time  to  hint  it  was 
getting  late. 

I  rose  at  once  and  went  out  to  the  horses. 

It  was  already  growing  dusk  ;  the  sky  was  darker, 
and  a  loose,  wet  sleet  was  beginning  to  fall.  I  took 


WANDERERS  79 

my  rug  down  covertly  from  the  box,  and  hid  it  under 
the  front  seat  inside  the  carriage  ;  when  that  was  done, 
I  watered  the  horses  and  harnessed  up.  A  little  after, 
Fruen  came  down  the  hill.  I  went  up  for  the  basket, 
and  met  her  on  the  way. 

"  Where  are  you  going?  " 

"  To  fetch  the  basket." 

"You  needn't  trouble,  thanks;  there's  nothing  to 
take  back." 

We  went  down  to  the  carriage  ;  she  got  in,  and  I 
made  to  help  her  to  rights  with  the  rug  she  had. 
Then  I  pulled  out  my  own  from  under  the  front  seat, 
taking  care  to  keep  the  border  out  of  sight  lest  she 
should  recognise  it. 

"  Oh,  what  a  blessing !  "  cried  Fruen.  "  Why,  where 
was  it  ?  " 

"  Under  the  seat  here." 

"Well  .  .  .  Of  course,  I  might  have  borrowed  some 
more  rugs  from  the  vicarage,  but  the  poor  souls  would 
never  have  got  them  back  again.  .  .  .  Thanks  ;  I  can 
manage  .  .  .  no,  thank  you  ;  I  can  manage  by  myself. 
You  can  drive  on  now." 

I  closed  the  carriage  door  and  climbed  to  my  seat. 

"  Now,  if  she  knocks  at  the  window  again,  it's  that 
rug,"  I  thought  to  myself.  "  Well,  I  won't  stop.  .  .  ." 

Hour  after  hour  passed  ;  it  was  pitch  dark  now,  rain- 
ing and  snowing  harder  than  ever,  the  road  growing 
worse  all  the  time.  Now  and  again  I  would  jump 
down  from  the  box  and  run  along  beside  the  horses  to 
keep  warm  ;  the  water  was  pouring  from  my  clothes. 

We  were  nearing  home  now. 

I  was  hoping  there  would  not  be  too  much  light 
when  we  drove  up,  so  that  she  recognised  the  rug. 
Unfortunately,  there  were  lights  in  all  the  windows, 
waiting  her  arrival. 

In  desperation  I  checked  the  horses  a  little  before 


8o  WANDERERS 

we  got  to  the  steps,  and  got  down  to  open  the  carriage 
door. 

"But  why  .  .  .  what  on  earth  have  you  pulled  up 
here  for?" 

"I  only  thought  if  perhaps  Fruen  wouldn't  mind 
getting  out  here.  It's  all  mud  on  ahead  .  .  .  the 
wheels  .  .  ." 

She  must  have  thought  I  was  trying  to  entice  her 
into  something,  Heaven  knows  !  .  .  . 

"  Drive  on,  man,  do  !  "  she  said. 

The  horses  moved  on,  and  the  carriage  stopped  just 
where  the  light  was  at  its  full. 

Emma  came  out  to  receive  her  mistress.  Fruen 
handed  her  the  rugs  all  in  a  bundle,  as  she  had  rolled 
them  up  before  getting  out  of  the  carriage. 

"Thanks,"  she  said  to  me,  glancing  round  as  she 
went  in.  "  Heavens,  how  dreadfully  wet  you  are !  " 

XXV 

A  curious  piece  of  news  awaited 'me:  Falkenberg 
had  taken  service  with  the  Captain  as  a  farm  hand. 

This  upset  the  plan  we  had  agreed  on,  and  left  me 
alone  once  more.  I  could  not  understand  a  word  of  it 
all.  Anyhow,  I  could  think  it  over  to-morrow.  .  .  . 
By  two  in  the  morning  I  was  still  lying  awake, 
shivering  and  thinking.  All  those  hours  I  could  not 
get  warm  ;  then  at  last  it  turned  hot,  and  I  lay  there 
in  full  fever.  .  .  .  How  frightened  she  had  been 
yesterday — dared  not  sit  down  to  eat  with  me  by  the 
roadside,  and  never  opened  her  eyes  to  me  once 
through  all  the  journey.  .  .  . 

Coming  to  my  senses  for  a  moment,  it  occurs  to 
me  I  might  wake  Falkenberg  with  my  tossing  about, 
and  perhaps  say  things  in  my  utlirium.  That  would 
never  do.  I  clench  my  teeth  and  jump  up,  get  into  my 


WANDERERS  81 

clothes  again,  scramble  down  the  stairs,  and  set  out 
over  the  fields  at  a  run.  After  a  little  my  clothes 
begin  to  warm  me  ;  I  make  towards  the  woods,  towards 
the  spot  where  we  had  been  working ;  sweat  and  rain 
pour  down  my  face.  If  only  I  can  find  the  saw,  and 
work  the  fever  out  of  my  body — 'tis  an  old  and  tried 
cure  of  mine,  that.  The  saw  is  nowhere  to  be  seen, 
but  I  come  upon  the  axe  I  had  left  there  Saturday 
evening,  and  set  to  work  with  that.  It  is  almost  too 
dark  to  see  at  all,  but  I  feel  at  the  cut  now  and  then 
with  my  hands,  and  bring  down  several  trees.  The 
sweat  pours  off  me  now. 

Then,  feeling  exhausted  enough,  I  hide  the  axe  in  its 
old  place  ;  it  is  getting  light  now,  and  I  set  off  at  a  run 
for  home. 

"  Where  have  you  been?  "  asks  Falkenberg. 

Now,  I  do  not  want  him  to  know  about  my  having 
taken  cold  the  day  before,  and  perhaps  go  making  talk 
of  it  in  the  kitchen  ;  I  simply  mutter  something  about 
not  knowing  quite  where  I  have  been. 

"You've  been  up  to  see  Ronnaug,  I  bet,"  he 
said. 

I  answered :  yes,  I  had  been  with  Ronnaug,  since 
he'd  guessed  it. 

"  'Twas  none  so  hard  to  guess,"  he  said.  "  Anyhow, 
you  won't  see  me  running  after  any  of  them  now." 

"Going  to  have  Emma,  then ?  " 

"  Why,  it  looks  that  way.  It's  a  pity  you  can't  get 
taken  on  here,  too.  Then  you  might  get  one  of  the 
others,  perhaps." 

And  he  went  on  talking  of  how  I  might  perhaps  have 
got  my  pick  of  the  other  girls,  but  the  Captain  had  no 
use  for  me.  I  wasn't  even  to  go  out  to-morrow  to  the 
wood.  .  .  .  The  words  sound  far  away,  reaching  me 
across  a  sea  of  sleep  that  is  rolling  towards  me. 

Next  morning  the  fever  is  gone ;  I  am  still  a  little 
6 


82  WANDERERS 

weak,  but  make  ready  to  go  out  to  the  wood  all  the 
same. 

"You  won't  need  to  put  on  your  woodcutting 
things  again,"  says  Falkenberg.  "I  told  you  that 
before." 

True  !  Nevertheless,  I  put  on  those  things,  seeing 
the  others  are  wet.  Falkenberg  is  a  little  awkward 
with  me  now,  because  of  breaking  our  plan  ;  by  way  of 
excuse,  he  says  he  thought  I  was  taking  work  at  the 
vicarage. 

"So  you're  not  coming  up  to  the  hills,  then?"  I 
asked. 

"  H'm  !  No,  I  don't  think  so — no.  And  you  know 
yourself,  I'm  sick  of  tramping  around.  I'll  not  get  a 
better  chance  than  this." 

I  make  as  if  it  was  no  great  matter  to  me,  and  take 
up  a  sudden  interest  in  Fetter  ;  worst  of  all  for  him, 
poor  fellow,  to  be  turned  out  and  nowhere  to  go. 

"  Nowhere  to  go?"  echoes  Falkenberg.  "  When  he's 
lain  here  the  three  weeks  he's  allowed  to  stay  sick  by 
law,  he'll  go  back  home  again.  His  father's  a  farmer." 

Then  Falkenberg  declares  it's  like  losing  part  of 
himself  to  have  me  go.  If  it  wasn't  for  Emma,  he'd 
break  his  word  to  the  Captain  after  all. 

"  Here,"  he  says,  "  I'll  give  you  these." 

"  What's  that  ?" 

"It's  the  certificates.  I  shan't  want  them  now, 
but  they  may  be  the  saving  of  you  at  a  pinch.  If  you 
ever  wanted  to  tune  a  piano,  say." 

And  he  hands  me  the  papers  and  the  key. 

But,  seeing  I  haven't  his  ear  for  music,  the  things 
are  no  use  to  me  ;  and  I  tell  him  so.  I  could  better 
handle  a  grindstone  than  a  piano. 

Whereat  Falkenberg  bursts  out  laughing,  relieved 
to  find  me  ready  with  a  jest  to  the  last.  .  .  . 

Falkenberg  goes  out.     I  have  time  to  laze  a  little, 


WANDERERS  83 

and  lie  down  all  dressed  on  the  bed,  resting  and 
thinking.  Well,  our  work  was  at  an  end  ;  we  should 
have  had  to  go  anyhow.  I  could  not  reckon  on  staying 
here  for  all  eternity.  The  only  thing  outside  all 
calculation  was  that  Falkenberg  should  stay.  If  only 
it  had  been  me  they'd  offered  this  work,  I'd  have 
worked  enough  for  two  !  Now,  was  there  any  chance 
of  buying  him  off,  I  wondered  ?  To  tell  the  truth,  I 
fancied  I  had  noticed  something  before ;  as  if  the 
Captain  were  not  altogether  pleased  to  have  this 
labourer  about  the  place  bearing  his  own  name.  Well, 
perhaps  I  had  been  wrong. 

I  thought  and  thought.  After  all,  I  had  been  a  good 
workman,  as  far  as  I  knew,  and  I  had  never  stolen  a 
moment  of  the  Captain's  time  for  work  on  my  own 
invention.  .  .  . 

I  fell  asleep  again,  and  wakened  at  the  sound  of 
footsteps  on  the  stairs.  Before  I  had  time  to  get 
properly  to  my  feet,  there  was  the  Captain  himself  in 
the  doorway. 

"Don't  get  up,"  he  said  kindly,  and  turned  as  if  to 
go  again.  "  Still,  seeing  you're  awake,  we  might 
settle  up.  What  do  you  say  ?  " 

I  said  it  was  as  he  pleased,  and  many  thanks. 
"  I  ought  to  tell  you,  though,  both  your  friend  and  I 
thought  you  were  going  to  take  service  at  the  vicarage, 
and  so  ...  And  now  the  weather's  broken  up,  there's 
no  doing  more  among  the  timber — and,  besides,  we've 
got  down  all  there  was  to  come.  Well,  now ;  I've 
settled  with  the  other  man.  I  don't  know  if 
you'd  .  .  ." 

I  said  I  would  be  quite  content  with  the  same. 
"  H'm !    Your  friend  and  I  agreed  you  ought  to  have 
more  per  day." 

Falkenberg  had  said  no  word  of  this  to  me ;  it 
sounded  like  the  Captain's  own  idea. 


84  WANDERERS 

"  I  agreed  with  him  we  should  share  alike,"  said  I. 

"But  you  were  sort  of  foreman;  of  course,  you 
ought  to  have  fifty  Ore  per  day  extra." 

I  saw  my  hesitation  displeased  him,  and  let  him 
reckon  it  out  as  he  pleased.  When  he  gave  me  the 
money,  I  said  it  was  more  than  I  had  reckoned  with. 
The  Captain  answered : 

"Very  pleased  to  hear  it.  And  I've  written  a  few 
lines  here  that  might  be  useful,  saying  you've  worked 
well  the  time  you  were  here." 

He  handed  me  the  paper. 

A  just  and  kindly  man,  the  Captain.  He  said 
nothing  now  about  the  idea  of  laying  on  water  to  the 
house  next  spring ;  I  took  it  he'd  his  reasons  for  that, 
and  did  not  like  to  trouble  him. 

Then  he  asked  : 

"  So  you're  going  off  now  to  work  on  the  railway?  " 

I  said  I  was  not  quite  sure  as  to  that. 

"  Well,  well  .  .  .  anyhow,  thanks  for  the  time 
you've  been  with  us." 

He  moved  towards  the  door.  And  I,  miserable 
weakling  that  I  was,  could  not  hold  myself  in  check, 
but  asked : 

"You  won't  be  having  any  work  for  me  later  on, 
perhaps,  in  the  spring?" 

"  I  don't  know  ;  we  shall  see.  I  ...  well,  it  all 
depends.  If  you  should  happen  to  be  anywhere  near, 
why  .  .  .  What  about  that  machine  of  yours  ?  " 

I  ventured  to  ask  if  I  might  leave  it  on  the  place. 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  Captain. 

When  he  had  gone  I  sat  down  on  the  bed.  Well, 
it  was  all  over  now.  Ay,  so  it  was — and  Lord  have 
mercy  on  us  all !  Nine  o'clock  ;  she  is  up — she  is  there 
in  the  house  I  can  see  from  this  very  window.  Well, 
let  me  get  away  and  have  done  with  it. 

I  get  out  my  sack  and  stow  away  my  things,  put  on 


WANDERERS  85 

my  wet  jacket  over  my  blouse,  and  am  ready  to  start. 
But  I  sit  down  again. 

Emma  comes  in:  "V<zrsaagod\  there's  something 
ready  for  you  in  the  kitchen." 

To  my  horror  she  had  my  rug  over  one  arm. 

"And  Fruen  told  me  to  ask  if  this  wasn't  your 
rug." 

"  Mine  ?     No  ;  I've  got  mine  here  with  my  things." 

Emma  goes  off  again  with  the  rug. 

Well,  how  could  I  say  it  was  mine  ?  Devil  take  the 
rug  !  .  .  .  Should  I  go  down  to  the  kitchen  or  not  ?  I 
might  be  able  to  say  good-bye  and  thanks  at  the  same 
time — nothing  strange  in  that. 

Emma  came  in  again  with  the  rug  and  laid  it  down 
neatly  folded  on  a  stool. 

"  If  you  don't  hurry  up,  the  coffee'll  be  cold," 
she  says. 

"What  did  you  put  that  rug  there  for?  " 

"Fruen  told  me  to." 

"Oh,  well,  perhaps  it's  Falkenberg's,"  I  muttered. 

Emma  asks : 

"Are  you  going  away  now  for  good  ?  " 

"  Yes,  seeing  you  won't  have  anything  to  do 
with  me." 

"  You !  "  says  Emma,  with  a  toss  of  her  head. 

I  went  down  with  Emma  to  the  kitchen  ;  sitting  at 
table,  I  saw  the  Captain  going  out  to  the  woods. 
Good  he  was  gone — now,  perhaps,  Fruen  might 
come  out. 

I  finished  my  meal  and  got  up.  Should  I  go  off  now, 
and  leave  it  at  that  ?  Of  course  ;  what  else  ?  I  took 
leave  of  the  maids,  with  a  jesting  word  to  each  in  turn. 

"I'd  have  liked  to  say  good-bye  to  Fruen,  too, 
but  .  .  ." 

"  Fruen's  indoors.      I'll  .  .   ." 

Emma  goes  in,  and  comes  back  a  moment  later. 


86  WANDERERS 

"  Fruen's  lying  down  with  a  headache.  She  sent  her 
very  good  wishes." 

"  Come  again !  "  said  all  the  girls  as  I  set  off. 

I  walk  away  out  of  the  place,  with  my  sack  under 
my  arm.  Then  suddenly  I  remembered  the  axe  ;  Fal- 
kenberg  might  not  find  it  where  I'd  put  it.  I  went 
back,  knocked  at  the  kitchen  door,  and  left  a  message 
for  him  where  it  was. 

Going  down  the  road,  I  turned  once  or  twice  and 
looked  back  towards  the  windows  of  the  house.  Then 
all  was  out  of  sight. 

XXVI 

I  circled  round  all  that  day,  keeping  near  to  0vreb0  ; 
looked  in  at  one  or  two  farms  to  ask  for  work,  and 
wandered  on  again  like  an  outcast,  aimlessly.  It  was 
a  chill,  unkindly  day,  and  I  had  need  of  all  my  walking 
to  keep  warm. 

Towards  evening  I  made  over  to  my  old  working 
place  among  the  Captain's  timber.  I  heard  no  sound 
of  the  axe  ;  Falkenberg  had  gone  home.  I  found  the 
trees  I  had  felled  the  night  before,  and  laughed  out- 
right at  the  ghastly  looking  stumps  I  had  left.  Fal- 
kenberg would  surely  have  seen  the  havoc,  and  wondered 
who  could  have  done  it.  Possibly  he  might  have  set  it 
down  to  witchcraft,  and  fled  home  accordingly  before  it 
got  dark.  Falkenberg !  .  .  .  Hahaha ! 

But  it  was  no  healthy  merriment,  I  doubt — a  thing 
born  of  the  fever  and  the  weakness  that  followed  it. 
And  I  soon  turned  sorrowful  once  more.  Here,  on  this 
spot,  she  had  stood  one  day  with  that  girl  friend  of 
hers  ;  they  had  come  out  and  talked  to  us  in  the 
woods.  .  .  . 

When  it  was  dark  enough  I  started  down  towards 
the  house.  Perhaps  I  might  sleep  in  the  loft  again 


WANDERERS  87 

to-night  ;  then  to-morrow,  when  her  headache  was 
gone,  she  might  come  out.  I  went  down  near  enough 
to  see  the  lights  of  the  house,  then  I  turned  back.  No, 
perhaps  it  was  too  early  yet. 

Then  for  a  time — I  should  reckon  about  two  hours — 
I  wandered  round  and  sat  down  a  bit,  wandered  again 
and  sat  down  a  bit ;  then  I  moved  up  towards  the  house 
again.  Now  I  could  perfectly  well  go  up  in  the  loft 
and  lie  down  there.  As  for  Falkenberg — miserable 
worm  ! — let  him  dare  to  say  a  word  !  Now  I  know 
what  I  will  do.  I  will  hide  my  sack  in  the  woods  before 
I  go  up,  so  as  to  look  as  if  I  had  only  come  back  for 
some  little  thing  I  had  forgotten. 

And  I  go  back  to  the  woods. 

No  sooner  have  I  hidden  the  sack  than  I  realise  I  am 
not  concerned  at  all  with  Falkenberg  and  sleeping  in 
the  loft.  I  am  a  fool  and  a  madman,  for  the  thing  I 
want  is  not  shelter  for  the  night,  but  a  sight  of  just  one 
creature  there  before  I  leave  the  place.  And  I  say  to 
myself:  "My  good  sir,  was  it  not  you  that  set  out  to 
live  a  quiet  life  among  healthy  folk,  to  win  back  your 
peace  of  mind  ?  " 

I  pull  out  my  sack  from  its  hiding-place,  fling  it  over 
my  shoulder,  and  move  towards  the  house  for  the  third 
time,  keeping  well  away  from  the  servants'  quarters, 
and  coming  round  on  the  south  side  of  the  main  build- 
ing. There  is  a  light  in  the  parlour. 

And  now,  although  it  is  dark,  I  let  down  the  sack 
from  over  my  shoulder,  not  to  look  like  a  beggar,  and 
thrust  it  under  my  arm  as  if  it  were  a  parcel.  So  I 
steal  up  cautiously  towards  the  house.  When  I  have 
got  near  enough,  I  stop,  stand  there  upright  and  strong 
before  the  windows,  take  off  my  cap  and  stand  there 
still.  There  is  no  one  to  be  seen  within,  not  a  shadow. 
The  dining-room  is  all  dark  ;  they  have  finished  their 
evening  meal.  It  must  be  late,  I  tell  myself. 


88  WANDERERS 

Suddenly  the  lamp  in  the  parlour  goes  out,  and  the 
whole  house  seems  dead  and  deserted.  I  wait  a  little, 
then  a  solitary  light  shines  out  upstairs.  That  must  be 
her  room.  The  light  burns  for  half  an  hour,  perhaps, 
and  then  goes  out  again.  She  had  gone  to  rest.  Good- 
night ! 

Good-night  for  ever  ! 

And,  of  course,  I  shall  not  come  back  to  this  place  in 
the  spring.  A  ridiculous  idea ! 

When  I  got  down  on  to  the  high  road,  I  shouldered 
my  sack  once  more  and  set  out  on  my  travels.  .  .  . 

In  the  morning  I  go  on  again,  having  slept  in  a  barn 
where  it  was  terribly  cold,  having  nothing  to  wrap 
round  me ;  moreover,  I  had  to  start  out  again  just  at 
the  coldest  hour,  about  daybreak,  lest  I  should  be  found 
there. 

I  walk  on  and  on.  The  woods  change  from  pine  to 
birch  and  back  again.  Coming  upon  a  patch  of  fine, 
straight-stemmed  juniper,  I  cut  myself  a  staff,  and  sit 
down  at  the  edge  of  the  wood  to  trim  it.  Here  and 
there  among  the  trees  a  yellow  leaf  or  so  still  hangs, 
but  the  birches  are  full  of  catkins  set  with  pearly  drops. 
Now  and  again  half  a  dozen  small  birds  swoop  down  on 
one  of  these  birches,  to  peck  at  the  catkins,  and  then  look 
about  for  a  stone  or  a  rough  tree  trunk  to  rub  the  gum 
from  their  beaks.  Each  is  jealous  of  the  rest ;  they 
watch  and  chase  and  drive  one  another  away,  though 
there  are  millions  of  catkins  for  them  to  take  all  they 
will.  And  the  one  that  is  chased  never  does  anything 
but  take  to  flight.  If  a  little  bird  comes  bearing  down 
towards  a  bigger  one,  the  bigger  one  will  move  away  ; 
even  a  full-grown  thrush  offers  no  resistance  to  a 
sparrow,  but  simply  takes  itself  off.  I  fancy  it  must 
be  the  speed  of  the  attack  that  does  it. 

The  cold  and  discomfort  of  the  morning  gradually 


WANDERERS  89 

disappear ;  it  amuses  me  to  watch  the  various  things 
I  meet  with  on  my  way,  and  think  a  little,  idly  enough, 
of  every  one.  The  birds  were  most  diverting  ;  also,  it 
was  cheering  to  reflect  that  I  had  my  pocket  full  of 
money. 

Falkenberg  had  chanced  to  mention  that  morning 
where  Fetter's  home  was,  and  I  made  now  for  that. 
There  would  hardly  be  work  for  me  on  so  small  a  place  ; 
but  now  that  I  was  rich,  it  was  not  work  I  sought  for 
first  of  all.  Fetter  would  be  coming  home  soon,  no 
doubt,  and  perhaps  have  some  news  to  tell. 

I  managed  so  as  to  reach  the  farm  in  the  evening.  I 
said  I  brought  news  of  their  son,  that  he  was  much 
better  now,  and  would  soon  be  home  again.  And  could 
they  put  me  up  for  the  night  ? 

XXVII 

I  have  been  staying  here  a  couple  of  days  ;  Fetter  has 
come  home,  but  had  nothing  to  tell. 

"Is  all  well  at  0vreb0?" 

"  Ay,  there's  nothing  wrong  that  I  know  of." 

"Did  you  see  them  all  before  you  left?  The  Cap- 
tain, Fruen  ?  " 

"Yes." 

4 'Nobody  ill?" 

"No.     Why,  who  should  there  be ?  " 

"Well,  Falkenberg  said  something  about  he'd  hurt 
his  hand.  But  I  suppose  it's  all  right  now,  then." 

There  was  little  comfort  in  this  home,  though  they 
seemed  to  be  quite  well  off.  Fetter's  father  was  deputy 
to  the  Storting,  and  had  taken  to  sitting  reading  the 
papers  of  an  evening.  Eh,  reading  and  reading — the 
whole  house  suffered  under  it,  and  the  daughters  were 
bored  to  death.  When  Fetter  came  home  the  entire 
family  set  to  work  reckoning  out  whether  he  had  got 


90  WANDERERS 

his  full  pay,  and  if  he  had  lain  sick  at  0vreb0  for  the 
full  time  allowed  him  by  law,  or  "  provided  by  statute," 
as  his  father,  the  deputy,  put  it.  Yesterday,  when  I 
happened  to  break  a  window — a  little  pane  that  cost 
next  to  nothing — there  was  no  end  of  whispering  about 
it,  and  unfriendly  glances  at  me  from  all  sides  ;  so  to- 
day I  went  up  to  the  store  and  bought  a  new  pane,  and 
fixed  it  in  properly  with  putty.  Then  said  the  deputy : 
"You  needn't  have  taken  all  that  trouble  over  a  pane 
of  glass." 

To  tell  the  truth,  it  was  not  only  for  that  I  had  been 
up  to  the  store  ;  I  also  bought  a  couple  of  bottles  of 
wine,  to  show  I  did  not  care  so  much  for  the  price  of  a 
pane  of  glass  or  so.  Also,  I  bought  a  sewing-machine, 
to  give  the  girls  when  I  went  away.  We  could  drink 
the  wine  this  evening  ;  to-morrow  would  be  Sunday, 
and  we  should  all  have  time  to  lie  abed.  But  on 
Monday  morning  I  would  start  off  again. 

Things  turned  out  otherwise,  however.  The  two 
girls  had  been  up  in  the  loft,  sniffing  at  my  sack  ;  both 
the  wine  and  the  sewing-machine  had  put  fancies  into 
their  heads  ;  they  imagined  all  sorts  of  things,  and 
began  throwing  out  hints.  Wait  a  bit,  thought  I  to 
myself;  my  time  will  come ! 

In  the  evening  I  sit  with  the  family  in  the  parlour, 
talking.  We  have  just  finished  supper,  and  the  master 
of  the  house  has  put  on  his  spectacles  to  read  the 
papers.  Then  someone  coughs  outside.  "There's 
someone  coming  in,"  I  say.  The  girls  exchange 
glances  and  go  out.  A  little  after  they  open  the  door 
and  show  in  two  young  men.  "  Come  in  and  sit  down," 
says  the  wife. 

It  struck  me  just  then  that  these  two  peasant  lads 
had  been  invited  on  the  strength  of  my  wine,  and  that 
they  were  sweethearts  with  the  girls.  Smart  young 
creatures — eighteen,  nineteen  years  old,  and  already  up 


WANDERERS  91 

to  anything.  Well,  if  they  reckoned  on  that  wine  now, 
they'd  be  mistaken  !  Not  a  drop.  .  .  . 

There  was  some  talking-  of  the  weather  ;  how  it  was 
no  better  than  could  be  looked  for  that  time  of  year, 
but  a  pity  the  wet  had  stopped  the  ploughing.  There 
was  no  sort  of  life  in  this  talk,  and  one  of  the  girls 
turned  to  me  and  said  I  was  very  quiet  this  evening. 
How  could  it  be  ? 

"  Maybe  because  I'm  going  away,"  I  answer.  "  I've 
a  good  long  way  to  go  between  now  and  Monday 
morning." 

"Then  perhaps  we  ought  to  have  a  parting  glass 
to-night  ?  " 

There  was  some  giggling  at  this,  as  a  well-deserved 
thrust  at  me  for  keeping  back  the  wine  that  miserly 
fashion.  But  I  did  not  know  these  girls,  and  cared 
nothing  for  them,  otherwise  I  had  acted  differently. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  I  asked.  "I've  bought 
three  bottles  of  wine  that  I've  to  take  with  me  to  a 
certain  place." 

"And  you're  going  to  carry  it  all  that  way?"  asked 
the  girl,  amid  much  laughter.  "As  if  there  were  never 
a  store  on  the  road." 

"  Frokenen  forgets  that  it's  Sunday  to-morrow,  and 
the  stores  on  the  road  will  be  shut,"  said  I. 

The  laugh  died  away,  but  I  could  see  the  company 
was  no  more  kindly  disposed  towards  me  now  for 
speaking  straight  out.  I  turned  to  the  wife,  and  asked 
coldly  how  much  I  owed  her  for  the  time  I  had  stayed. 

But  surely  there  was  no  hurry — wouldn't  it  do 
to-morrow  ? 

I  was  in  a  hurry — thank  you.  I  had  been  there  two 
days — what  did  that  come  to  ? 

She  thought  over  it  quite  a  while ;  at  last  she  went 
out,  and  got  her  husband  to  go  with  her  and  work  it  out 
together. 


92  WANDERERS 

Seeing  they  stayed  so  long-  away,  I  went  up  to  the 
loft,  packed  my  sack  all  ready,  and  carried  it  down  into 
the  passage.  I  proposed  to  be  even  more  offended, 
and  start  off  now — that  very  night.  It  would  be  a  good 
way  of  taking  leave,  as  things  were. 

When  I  came  into  the  room  again,  Fetter  said : 

' '  You  don't  mean  to  say  you're  starting  out  to-night  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  do." 

"You've  no  call  to  heed  the  girls'  nonsense,  anyway." 

"  Herregud,  let  the  old  fellow  go  if  he  wants  to," 
said  his  sister. 

At  last  the  deputy  and  his  wife  came  in  again,  stiffly 
and  stubbornly  silent. 

Well  I     And  how  much  did  I  owe  them  ? 

H'm  !     They  would  leave  it  to  me. 

They  were  all  alike — a  mean  and  crafty  lot ;  I  felt 
myself  stifling,  and  picking  out  the  first  note  that  came 
to  hand  I  flung  it  at  the  woman. 

Was  that  enough  ? 

H'm !  A  tidy  bit,  for  sure,  but  still  .  .  .  And  some 
might  say  'twas  enough,  but  .  .  . 

How  much  was  it  I  had  given  her  ? 

A  five-Kroner  note. 

Well,  perhaps  it  was  barely  enough  ;  I  felt  in  my 
pocket  for  some  more. 

"No,  mother,  it  was  a  ten-Kroner,"  said  Fetter. 
"And  that's  too  much  ;  you'll  have  to  give  him  some- 
thing back." 

The  old  woman  opens  her  hand,  looks  at  the  note, 
and  turns  so  very  surprised  all  at  once. 

"Why,  so  it  is,  ten  Kroner,  yes  ...  I  didn't  pro- 
perly look.  Why,  then,  'tis  right  enough,  and  many 
thanks.  .  .  ." 

Her  husband,  in  embarrassment,  starts  talking  to  the 
two  lads  of  what  he'd  been  reading  in  the  paper  ;  nasty 
accident ;  hand  crushed  in  a  threshing-machine.  The 


WANDERERS  93 

girls  pretended  not  to  notice  me,  but  sat  like  two  cats 
all  the  time,  with  necks  drawn  in  and  eyes  as  thin  as 
knife  blades.  Nothing  to  stay  for  here — good-bye  to 
them  all. 

The  old  woman  comes  out  in  the  passage  and  tries 
making  up  to  me. 

"  If  only  you'd  lend  us  just  one  of  those  bottles  now," 
she  says,  "'twould  be  a  real  kindness,  that  it  would. 
With  the  two  lads  sitting  there  and  all." 

"  Farvel"  said  I  shortly,  and  would  hear  no  more. 

I  had  my  sack  over  my  shoulder,  and  the  sewing- 
machine  in  one  hand ;  it  was  a  heavy  load,  and  the 
muddy  road  made  things  no  easier.  But  for  all  that  I 
walked  with  a  light  heart.  It  was  a  miserable  business 
altogether,  and  I  might  as  well  admit  I  had  acted  a 
trifle  meanly.  Meanly  ?  Not  a  bit !  I  formed  myself 
into  a  little  committee,  and  pointed  out  that  those 
infernal  girls  had  planned  to  entertain  their  sweet- 
hearts with  my  wine.  Well  and  good  ;  but  was  not 
my  ill-will  towards  that  idea  male  selfishness  on  my 
part?  If  two  strange  girls  had  been  invited,  instead  of 
two  young  men,  should  I  not  have  uncorked  the  wine 
without  a  murmur  ?  Certainly  !  And  then  as  to  their 
calling  me  an  old  fellow  ;  after  all,  it  was  perfectly 
right.  Old  indeed  I  must  be,  since  I  took  offence  at 
being  set  aside  in  favour  of  stray  ploughboys.  .  .  . 

But  my  sense  of  injury  cooled  down  in  the  course 
of  that  hard  walking.  The  committee  meeting  was 
adjourned,  and  I  toiled  along  hour  after  hour  with  my 
ridiculous  burden — three  bottles  of  wine  and  a  sewing- 
machine.  It  was  mild  and  slightly  foggy  ;  I  could  not 
see  the  lights  of  a  farm  till  quite  close  up,  and  then  mostly 
the  dogs  would  come  dashing  out  on  me  and  hinder 
me  from  stealing  into  a  barn.  Later  and  later  it  grew ; 
I  was  tired  and  discouraged,  and  plagued  myself  too 
with  anxiety  about  the  future.  Had  I  not  already 


94  WANDERERS 

wasted  a  heap  of  money  on  the  most  useless  trash  ?  I 
must  sell  that  sewing-machine  again  now,  and  get 
some  of  it  back. 

At  long  last  I  came  to  a  place  where  there  was  no 
dog.  There  was  still  a  light  in  the  window,  and, 
without  more  ado,  I  walked  up  and  asked  shelter  for 
the  night. 

XXVIII 

A  young  girl  sat  at  a  table  sewing ;  there  was  no 
one  else  in  the  room.  When  I  asked  for  shelter,  she 
answered  brightly  and  trustingly  that  she  would  see, 
and  went  into  a  little  room  at  the  side.  I  called  after 
her  as  she  went  that  I  would  be  glad  only  to  sit  here  by 
the  stove  till  daylight. 

A  little  after  the  girl  came  in  again  with  her  mother, 
who  was  still  buttoning  her  clothes  about  her. 
Godkvceld !  Shelter  for  the  night?  Well,  well,  there 
wasn't  that  room  in  the  place  they  could  make  me 
properly  comfortable,  but  I'd  be  welcome  to  the  bed- 
room, such  as  it  was. 

And  where  would  they  sleep  themselves  ? 

Why,  it  was  near  day  now,  and  the  girl'd  be  sitting 
up  anyhow  for  a  bit  with  her  sewing. 

What  was  she  sewing  to  sit  up  for  all  night?  A 
new  dress  ? 

No,  only  the  skirt.  She  was  to  wear  it  to  church  in 
the  morning,  but  wouldn't  hear  of  her  mother  helping. 

I  brought  up  my  sewing-machine,  and  said  jestingly 
that  a  skirt  more  or  less  was  a  mere  trifle  for  a  thing 
like  this.  Wait,  and  I'd  show  them. 

Was  I  a  tailor,  then  ? 

No.     But  I  sold  sewing-machines. 

I  took  out  the  printed  directions  and  studied  them  to 
see  how  it  worked.  The  girl  listened  attentively  ;  she 


WANDERERS  95 

was  a  mere  child  ;  her  thin  fingers  were  all  blue  with 
the  dye  from  the  stuff.  There  was  something  so  poor- 
looking  about  those  blue  fingers  ;  I  brought  out  some 
wine  and  poured  out  for  all  of  us.  Then  we  go  on 
sewing  again — I  with  the  printed  paper,  and  the  girl 
working  the  machine.  She  is  delighted  to  see  how 
easily  it  goes,  and  her  eyes  are  all  aglow. 

How  old  was  she? 

Sixteen.     Confirmed  last  year. 

And  what  was  her  name? 

Olga. 

Her  mother  stands  watching  us,  and  would  dearly 
like  to  try  the  machine  herself,  but  every  time  she 
comes  near,  Olga  says:  "Be  careful,  mother,  you'll 
harm  it."  And  when  the  spool  needs  filling,  and  her 
mother  takes  the  shuttle  in  her  hand  a  moment,  the 
child  is  once  more  afraid  it  may  be  "  harmed." 

The  old  woman  puts  on  the  coffee-pot,  and  tends  the 
fire  ;  the  room  is  soon  warm  and  cosy.  The  lonely  folk 
are  as  trusting  and  kindly  as  could  be.  Olga  laughs 
when  I  make  a  little  jest  about  the  machine.  I  noted 
that  neither  of  them  asked  how  much  the  thing  cost, 
though  I  had  told  them  it  was  for  sale.  They  looked 
on  it  as  hopelessly  beyond  their  reach.  But  they  could 
still  take  a  delight  in  seeing  it  work. 

I  hinted  that  Olga  really  ought  to  have  a  machine 
like  that,  seeing  she'd  got  the  way  of  it  so  neatly  all 
at  once. 

Her  mother  answered  it  would  have  to  wait  till  she'd 
been  out  in  service  for  a  bit. 

Was  she  going  out  in  service  ? 

Why,  yes,  she  hoped  so,  anyway.  Both  her  other 
daughters  were  in  service,  and  doing  well  —  thank 
God.  Olga  would  be  meeting  them  at  church  in  the 
morning. 

There  was  a  little  cracked  mirror  hanging  on  one  of 


96  WANDERERS 

the  walls,  on  the  other  a  few  cheap  prints  had  been 
tacked  up — pictures  of  soldiers  on  horseback  and 
royalties  with  a  great  deal  of  finery.  One  of  these 
pictures  is  old  and  frayed.  It  is  a  portrait  of  the 
Empress  Eugenie,  and  evidently  not  a  recent  purchase. 
I  asked  where  it  had  come  from. 

The  good  woman  did  not  know.  Must  be  something 
her  husband  had  bought  in  his  time. 

"Did  he  buy  it  here?" 

More  likely  'twould  have  been  at  Hersaet,  where  he 
had  been  in  service  as  a  young  man.  Might  be  thirty 
years  gone  now. 

I  have  a  little  plan  in  my  head  already,  and  say : 

"That  picture  is  worth  a  deal  of  money." 

The  woman  thinks  I  am  making  game  of  her,  so  I 
make  a  close  inspection  of  the  picture,  and  declare 
emphatically  that  it  is  no  cheap  print — no. 

But  the  woman  is  quite  stupid,  and  simply  says : 
well,  did  I  think  so,  now?  The  thing  had  hung  there 
ever  since  the  house  was  built.  It  was  Olga's,  by  the 
way,  she  had  called  it  hers  from  the  time  she  was  a 
little  one. 

I  put  on  a  knowing,  mysterious  air,  and  ask  for 
further  details  of  the  case — where  Hersaet  might  be. 

Hersaet  was  in  the  neighbouring  parish,  some  eight 
miles  away.  The  Lensmand  lived  there.  .  .  . 

The  coffee  is  ready,  and  Olga  and  I  call  a  halt. 
There  are  only  the  fastenings  to  be  done  now.  I  ask 
to  see  the  blouse  she  is  to  wear  with  the  skirt,  and  it 
appears  that  this  is  not  a  real  blouse  at  all,  but  a 
knitted  kerchief.  But  she  has  a  left-off  jacket  that 
one  of  her  sisters  gave  her,  and  that  will  go  outside 
and  hide  all  the  rest. 

Olga  is  growing  so  fast,  I  am  told,  that  there's  no 
sense  in  buying  a  blouse  for  her  this  twelvemonth  to 
come. 


WANDERERS  97 

Olga  sits  sewing  on  hooks  and  eyes,  and  that  is  soon 
done.  Then  she  turns  so  sleepy,  it's  a  sight  to  see  ; 
wherefore  I  put  on  an  air  of  authority  and  order  her 
to  bed.  Her  mother  feels  constrained  to  sit  up  and 
keep  me  company,  though  I  tell  her  myself  to  go 
back  to  bed  again. 

"You  ought  to  be  properly  thankful,  I'm  sure,"  says 
the  mother,  "to  the  strange  man  for  all  the  way  he's 
helped  you." 

And  Olga  comes  up  to  me  and  gives  her  hand  to 
thank  me,  and  I  turn  her  round  and  shuffle  her  across 
to  the  bedroom  door. 

"You'd  better  go  too,"  I  say  to  her  mother.  "I 
won't  sit  talking  any  more,  for  I'm  tired  myself." 

And,  seeing  I  settle  down  by  the  stove  with  my  sack 
under  my  head,  she  shakes  her  head  with  a  smile  and 
goes  off  too. 

XXIX 

I  am  happy  and  comfortable  here  ;  it  is  morning  ; 
the  sun  coming  in  through  the  window,  and  both 
Olga  and  her  mother  with  their  hair  so  smooth  and 
plastered  down,  a  wonder  to  see. 

After  breakfast,  which  I  share  with  the  two  of  them, 
getting  quantities  of  coffee  with  it,  Olga  gets  herself 
up  in  her  new  skirt  and  her  knitted  kerchief  and  the 
jacket.  Eh,  that  wonderful  jacket ;  lasting  at  the  edge 
all  round,  and  two  rows  of  buttons  of  the  same,  and 
the  neck  and  sleeves  trimmed  with  braid.  But  little 
Olga  could  not  fill  it  out.  Nothing  near  it !  The  child 
is  all  odd  corners  and  angles,  like  a  young  calf. 

"  Couldn't  we  just  take  it  in  a  bit  at  the  sides?"  I 
ask.  "There's  plenty  of  time." 

But  mother  and  daughter  exchange  glances,  plainly 
saying,  'tis  Sunday,  and  no  using  needle  or  knife  that 
7 


98  WANDERERS 

day.  I  understand  them  well  enough,  for  I  would  have 
thought  exactly  the  same  myself  in  my  childhood.  So 
I  try  to  find  a  way  out  by  a  little  free-thinking:  'tis 
another  matter  when  it's  a  machine  that  does  the 
work  ;  no  more  than  when  an  innocent  cart  comes 
rumbling  down  the  road,  as  it  may  any  Sunday. 

But  no ;  this  is  beyond  them.  And  anyhow,  the 
jacket  must  give  her  room  to  grow  ;  in  a  couple  of 
years  it  would  fit  her  nicely. 

I  thought  about  for  something  I  could  slip  into 
Olga's  hand  as  she  went ;  but  I've  nothing,  so  I  gave 
her  a  silver  Krone.  And  straightway  she  gives  her 
hand  in  thanks,  and  shows  the  coin  to  her  mother,  and 
whispers  she  will  give  it  to  her  sister  at  church.  Her 
eyes  are  simply  glowing  with  joy  at  the  thought. 
And  her  mother,  hardly  less  moved  herself,  answers 
yes,  perhaps  she  ought.  .  .  . 

Olga  goes  off  to  church  in  her  long  jacket ;  goes 
shambling  down  the  hill  with  her  feet  turning  in  and 
out  any  odd  way.  A  sweet  and  heartening  thing  to 
see.  .  .  . 

Hersaet  now  ;  was  that  a  big  place  ? 

Yes,  a  fine  big  place. 

I  sit  for  a  while  blinking  sleepy  eyes  and  mak- 
ing excursions  in  etymology.  Hersaet  might  mean 
Herrescete. l  Or  possibly  some  herse  2  might  have  held 
sway  there.  And  the  herse's  daughter  was  the  proudest 
maiden  for  far  around,  and  the  Jarl  himself  comes 
to  ask  her  hand.  And  the  year  after  she  bears  him 
a  son,  who  becomes  king.  .  .  . 

In  a  word,  I  would  go  to  Hersaet.     Seeing  it  was  all 

the  same  where  I  went,   I  would  go  there.      Possibly 

I   might  get  work  at  the  Lensmand's,   or   there  was 

always  the  chance  of  something  turning  up  ;  at  any 

1  Manor.  2  Local  chieftain  in  ancient  times. 


WANDERERS  99 

rate,  I  should  see  new  people.  And,  having  thus 
decided  upon  Hersaet,  I  felt  I  had  a  purpose  before 
me. 

The  good  woman  gives  me  leave  to  lie  down  on  her 
bed,  for  I  am  drowsy  and  stupid  for  lack  of  sleep. 
A  fine  blue  spider  clambers  slowly  up  the  wall,  and  I 
lie  watching  it  till  I  fall  asleep. 

After  a  couple  of  hours  I  wake  suddenly,  feeling 
rested  and  fresh.  The  woman  was  cooking  the  dinner. 
I  pack  up  my  sack,  pay  her  for  my  stay,  and  end  up  by 
saying  I'd  like  to  make  an  exchange ;  my  sewing- 
machine  for  Olga's  picture  there. 

The  woman  incredulous  as  ever. 

Never  mind,  say  I  ;  if  she  was  content,  why,  so 
was  I.  The  picture  was  of  value  ;  I  knew  what  I  was 
doing. 

I  took  down  the  picture  from  the  wall,  blew  the  dust 
from  it,  and  rolled  it  up  carefully  ;  the  wall  showed 
lighter  in  a  square  patch  where  it  had  been.  Then  I 
took  my  leave. 

The  woman  followed  me  out :  wouldn't  I  wait  now, 
till  Olga  came  back,  so  she  could  thank  me?  Oh, 
now  if  I  only  would  ! 

I  couldn't.  Hadn't  time.  Tell  her  from  me,  if  there 
was  anything  she  couldn't  make  out,  to  look  in  the 
directions.  .  .  . 

The  woman  stood  looking  after  me  as  I  went.  I 
swaggered  down  the  road,  whistling  with  satisfaction 
at  what  I  had  done.  Only  the  sack  to  carry  now ;  I 
was  rested,  the  sun  was  shining,  and  the  road  had 
dried  up  a  little.  I  fell  to  singing  with  satisfaction 
at  what  I  had  done. 

Neurasthenia  .  .  . 

I  reached  Hersset  the  following  day.  At  first  I  felt 
like  passing  by,  it  looked  so  big  and  fine  a  place ;  but 
after  I  had  talked  a  bit  with  one  of  the  farm  hands, 


ioo  WANDERERS 

I  decided  to  try  the  Lensmand  after  all.  I  had  worked 
for  rich  people  before — let  me  see,  there  was  Captain 
Falkenberg  of  0vreb0  .  .  . 

The  Lensmand  was  a  little,  broad-shouldered  man, 
with  a  long  white  beard  and  dark  eyebrows.  He 
talked  gruffly,  but  had  kindly  eyes  ;  afterwards,  I  found 
he  was  a  merry  soul,  who  could  laugh  and  jest  heartily 
enough  at  times.  Now  and  again,  too,  he  would  show 
a  touch  of  pride  in  his  position,  and  his  wealth,  and 
like  to  have  it  recognised. 

"No,  I've  no  work  for  you.  Where  do  you  come 
from  ?  " 

I  named  some  places  I  had  lately  passed. 

"  No  money,  I  suppose,  and  go  about  begging?  " 

No,  I  did  not  beg  ;  I  had  money  enough. 

"Well,  you'll  have  to  go  on  farther.  I've  nothing 
for  you  to  do  here  ;  the  ploughing's  done.  Can  you  cut 
staves  for  a  fence  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  H'm.  Well,  I  don't  use  wooden  fences  any  more. 
I've  put  up  wire.  Do  bricklayer's  work? " 

"Yes." 

"That's  a  pity.  I've  had  bricklayers  at  work  here 
for  weeks  ;  you  might  have  got  a  job.  But  it's  all  done 
now." 

He  stood  poking  his  stick  in  the  ground. 

"  What  made  you  come  to  me  ?  " 

"Everyone  said  go  to  the  Lensmand  if  I  wanted  work." 

"Oh,  did  they?  Well,  I've  always  got  a  crowd 
here  working  at  something  or  other — those  bricklayers, 
now.  Can  you  put  up  a  fence  that's  proof  against 
fowls? — For  that's  more  than  any  soul  on  earth  ever 
could,  haha ! — Worked  for  Captain  Falkenberg,  you 
said,  at  0vreb0?" 

"Yes." 

"  What  were  you  doing  there?  " 


WANDERERS  101 

"  Felling  timber." 

"I  don't  know  him — he  lives  a  long  way  off.  But 
I've  heard  of  him.  Any  papers  from  him  ?  " 

I  showed  him  what  the  Captain  had  written. 

"  Come  along  with  me,"  said  the  Lensmand  abruptly. 

He  led  me  round  the  house  and  into  the  kitchen. 

"  Give  this  man  a  thorough  good  meal — he's  come 
a  long  way,  and  ..." 

I  sat  down  in  the  big,  well-lighted  kitchen  to  the 
best  meal  I  had  had  for  a  long  time.  I  had  just 
finished  when  the  Lensmand  came  out  again. 

"  Look  here,  you  .  .   ."  he  began. 

I  got  up  at  once  and  stood  straight  as  an  arrow — a 
piece  of  politeness  which  I  fancy  was  not  lost  on  him. 

"  No,  no,  finish  your  meal,  go  on.  Finished?  Sure? 
Well,  I've  been  thinking  .  .  .  Come  along  with  me." 

He  took  me  out  to  the  woodshed. 

"You  might  do  a  bit  of  work  getting  in  firewood  ; 
what  do  you  say  to  that?  I've  two  men  on  the  place, 
but  one  of  them  I  shall  want  for  summoners'  work, 
so  you'll  have  to  go  woodcutting  with  the  other. 
You  can  see  there's  plenty  of  wood  here  as  it  is,  but 
it'll  take  no  harm  lying  here  ;  can't  have  too  much  of 
that  sort  of  thing.  You  said  you  had  money ;  let 
me  see." 

I  showed  him  the  notes  I  had. 

"Good!  I'm  an  official,  you  see,  and  have  to  know 
my  folk.  Though  I  don't  suppose  you've  anything 
on  your  conscience,  seeing  you  come  to  the  Lensmand, 
haha !  Well,  as  I  said,  you  can  give  yourself  a  rest 
to-day,  and  start  cutting  wood  to-morrow." 

I  set  to  work  getting  ready  for  the  next  day, 
looked  to  my  clothes,  filed  the  saw,  and  ground  my 
axe.  I  had  no  gloves,  but  it  was  hardly  weather 
for  gloves  as  yet,  and  there  was  nothing  else  I  was 
short  of. 


102  WANDERERS 

The  Lensmand  came  out  to  me  several  times,  and 
talked  in  a  casual  way  ;  it  amused  him,  perhaps,  to 
talk  to  a  strange  wanderer.  "Here,  Margrethe !  " 
he  called  to  his  wife,  as  she  went  across  the  courtyard  ; 
"  here's  the  new  man ;  I'm  going  to  send  him  out 
cutting  wood." 

XXX 

We  had  no  special  orders,  but  set  to  work  as  we 
thought  best,  felling  dry-topped  trees,  and  in  the 
evening  the  Lensmand  said  it  was  right  enough.  But 
he  would  show  us  himself  the  next  day. 

I  soon  realised  that  the  work  here  would  not  last 
till  Christmas.  With  the  weather  we  were  having, 
and  the  ground  as  it  was,  frost  at  night  and  no  snow, 
we  felled  a  deal  each  day,  and  nothing  to  hinder  the 
work  ;  the  Lensmand  himself  thought  we  were  devilish 
smart  at  felling  trees,  haha !  The  old  man  was  easy 
to  work  with  ;  he  often  came  out  to  us  in  the  woods 
and  chatted  and  made  jokes,  and  as  I  never  joked  in 
return,  he  took  me,  no  doubt,  for  a  dull  dog,  but  a 
steady  fellow.  He  began  sending  me  on  errands  now, 
with  letters  to  and  from  the  post. 

There  were  no  children  on  the  place,  no  young  folk 
at  all  save  the  maids  and  one  of  the  farm-hands,  so  the 
evenings  were  rather  long.  By  way  of  passing  the  time, 
I  got  hold  of  some  tin  and  acids  and  re-tinned  some 
old  pots  and  kettles  in  the  kitchen.  But  that  was  soon 
done.  And  then  one  evening  I  came  to  write  the  follow- 
ing letter : 

"  If  only  I  -were  -where  you  are,  I  -would  work  for  two." 

Next  day  I  had  to  go  to  the  post  for  the  Lensmand  ; 
I  took  my  letter  with  me  and  posted  it.  I  was  very 
uneasy.  Moreover,  thejetter  looked  clumsy  as  I  sent 
it,  for  I  had  got  the  paper  from  the  Lensmand,  and  had 


WANDERERS  103 

to  paste  a  whole  strip  of  stamps  along  the  envelope  to 
cover  where  his  name  was  printed  on.  I  wondered 
what  she  would  say  when  she  got  it.  There  was  no 
name,  nor  any  place  given  in  the  letter. 

And  so  we  work  in  the  woods,  the  other  man  and  I, 
talk  of  our  little  affairs,  working  with  heart  and  soul, 
and  getting  on  well  together.  The  days  passed  ;  al- 
ready, worse  luck,  I  could  see  the  end  of  our  work 
ahead,  but  I  had  a  little  hope  the  Lensmand  might  find 
something  else  for  me  to  do  when  the  woodcutting  was 
finished.  Something  would  surely  turn  up.  I  had  no 
wish  to  set  out  wandering  anew  before  Christmas. 

Then  one  day  I  go  to  the  post  again,  and  there  is  a 
letter  for  me.  I  cannot  understand  that  it  is  for  me, 
and  I  stand  turning  and  twisting  it  confusedly  ;  but 
the  man  knows  me  now  ;  he  reads  from  the  envelope 
again  and  says  yes,  it  is  my  name  right  enough,  and 
care  of  the  Lensmand.  Suddenly  a  thought  strikes  me, 
and  I  grasp  the  letter.  Yes,  it  is  for  me  ;  I  forgot  .  .  . 
yes,  of  course  .  .  . 

And  I  hurry  out  into  the  road,  with  something  ringing 
in  my  ears  all  the  time,  and  open  the  letter,  and  read  : 

"  Skriu  ikke  tU  mig  -  "  * 


No  name,  no  place,  but  so  clear  and  lovely.      The 
first  word  was  underlined. 

I  do  not  know  how  I  got  home.  I  remember  I  sat 
on  a  stone  by  the  roadside  and  read  the  letter  and  put 
it  in  my  pocket,  and  walked  on  till  I  came  to  another 
stone  and  did  the  same  again.  Sfiriu  ikke.  But  —  did 
that  mean  I  might  come  and  perhaps  speak  with  her  ? 
That  little,  dainty  piece  of  paper,  and  the  swift,  delicate 
characters.  Her  hands  had  held  it,  her  eyes  had  looked 
on  it,  her  breath  had  touched  it.  And  then  at  the  end 
a  dash.  Which  might  have  a  world  of  meaning. 
1  "  Do  not  -write  (skrive)  to  me." 


104  WANDERERS 

I  came  home,  handed  in  the  Lensmand's  post,  and 
went  out  into  the  wood.  I  was  dreaming  all  the  time. 
My  comrade,  no  doubt,  must  have  found  me  an  incom- 
prehensible man,  seeing  me  read  a  letter  again  and 
again,  and  put  it  back  with  my  money. 

How  splendid  of  her  to  have  found  me !  She  must 
have  held  the  envelope  up  to  the  light,  no  doubt,  and 
read  the  Lensmand's  name  under  the  stamps  ;  then  laid 
her  beautiful  head  on  one  side  and  half  closed  her  eyes 
and  thought  for  a  moment :  he  is  working  for  the 
Lensmand  at  Hersaet  now.  .  .  . 

That  evening,  when  we  were  back  home,  the  Lens- 
mand came  out  and  talked  to  us  of  this  and  that,  and 
asked  : 

"Didn't  you  say  you'd  been  working  for  Captain 
Falkenberg  at  0vreb0  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  I  see  he's  invented  a  machine." 

"A  machine?" 

"A  patent  saw  for  timber  work.  It's  in  the 
papers." 

I  started  at  this.  Surely  he  hadn't  invented  my 
patent  saw  ? 

"There  must  be  some  mistake,"  I  said.  "  It  wasn't 
the  Captain  who  invented  it." 

"Oh,  wasn't  it?" 

"  No/  it  wasn't.     But  the  saw  was  left  with  him." 

And  I  told  the  Lensmand  all  about  it.  He  went 
in  to  fetch  the  paper,  and  we  both  read  what  it 
said :  "  New  Invention  .  .  .  Our  Correspondent 
on  the  spot  ...  Of  great  importance  to  owners  of 
timber  lands  .  .  .  Principle  of  the  mechanism  is  as 
follows:  ..." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  it's  your  invention?  " 

"Yes,  it  is." 

"  And  the  Captain  is  trying  to  steal  it  ?     Why,  this'll 


WANDERERS  105 

be  a  pretty  case,  a  mighty  pretty  case.  Leave  it  to  me. 
Did  anyone  see  you  working  on  the  thing?  " 

"  Yes,  all  his  people  on  the  place  did." 

"  Lord  save  me  if  it's  not  the  stiffest  bit  of  business 
I've  heard  for  a  long  time.  Walk  off  with  another 
man's  invention !  And  the  money,  too  .  .  .  why,  it 
might  bring  you  in  a  million  !  " 

I  was  obliged  to  confess  I  could  not  understand  the 
Captain. 

"Don't  you?  Haha,  but  I  do!  I've  not  been 
Lensmand  all  this  time  for  nothing.  No  ;  I've  had 
my  suspicions  that  he  wasn't  so  rich  as  he  pretended. 
Well,  I'll  send  him  a  bit  of  a  letter  from  me,  just  a  line 
or  so — what  do  you  say  to  that  ?  Hahaha  !  You  leave 
it  to  me." 

But  at  this  I  began  to  feel  uneasy.  The  Lensmand 
was  too  violent  all  at  once  ;  it  might  well  be  that  the 
Captain  was  not  to  blame  in  the  matter  at  all,  and  that 
the  newspaper  man  had  made  the  mistake  himself.  I 
begged  the  Lensmand  to  let  me  write  myself. 

"And  agree  to  divide  the  proceeds  with  that  rascal? 
Never !  You  leave  the  whole  thing  in  my  hands.  And, 
anyhow,  if  you  were  to  write  yourself,  you  couldn't  set 
it  out  properly  the  way  I  can." 

But  I  worked  on  him  until  at  last  he  agreed  that  I 
should  write  the  first  letter,  and  then  he  should  take  it 
up  after.  I  got  some  of  the  Lensmand's  paper  again. 

I  got  no  writing  done  that  evening  ;  it  had  been  an 
exciting  day,  and  my  mind  was  all  in  a  turmoil  still. 
I  thought  and  reckoned  it  out  ;  for  Fruen's  sake  I 
would  not  write  directly  to  the  Captain,  and  risk  caus- 
ing her  unpleasantness  as  well ;  no,  I  would  send  a  line 
to  my  comrade,  Lars  Falkenberg,  to  keep  an  eye  on 
the  machine. 

That  night  I  had  another  visit  from  the  corpse — that 
miserable  old  woman  in  her  night-shift,  that  would  not 


io6  WANDERERS 

leave  me  in  peace  on  account  of  her  thumbnail.  I  had 
had  a  long1  spell  of  emotion  the  day  before,  so  this  night 
she  took  care  to  come.  Frozen  with  horror,  I  saw  her 
come  gliding  in,  stop  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  and 
stretch  out  her  hand.  Over  against  the  other  wall  lay 
my  fellow-woodcutter  in  his  bed,  and  it  was  a  strange 
relief  to  me  to  hear  that  he  too  lay  groaning  and  moving 
restlessly ;  at  any  rate  there  were  two  of  us  to  share 
the  danger.  I  shook  my  head,  to  say  I  had  buried  the 
nail  in  a  peaceful  spot,  and  could  do  no  more.  But  the 
corpse  stood  there  still.  I  begged  her  pardon  ;  but 
then,  suddenly,  I  was  seized  with  a  feeling  of  annoy- 
ance ;  I  grew  angry,  and  told  her  straight  out  I'd  have 
no  more  of  her  nonsense.  I'd  borrowed  that  nail  of 
hers  at  a  pinch,  but  I'd  done  all  I  could  do  months  ago, 
and  buried  it  again.  ...  At  that  she  came  gliding 
sideways  over  to  my  pillow,  trying  to  get  behind  me. 
I  flung  myself  up  in  bed  and  gave  a  shriek. 

"  What  is  it?  "  asked  the  lad  from  the  other  bed. 

I  rub  my  eyes  and  answer  I'd  been  dreaming,  that 
was  all. 

"  Who  was  it  came  in  just  now?  "  asks  the  boy. 

"  I  don't  know.     Was  there  anyone  in  here  ?  " 

"  I  saw  someone  going  .  .  ." 

XXXI 

After  a  couple  of  days,  I  set  myself  down  calmly  and 
loftily  to  write  to  Falkenberg.  I  had  a  bit  of  a  saw 
thing  I'd  left  there  at  0vreb0,  I  wrote  ;  it  might  be  a 
useful  thing  for  owners  of  timber  lands  some  day,  and 
I  proposed  to  come  along  and  fetch  it  away  shortly. 
Please  keep  an  eye  on  it  and  see  it  doesn't  get 
damaged. 

Yes,  I  wrote  in  that  gentle  style.  That  was  the 
most  dignified  way.  And  since  Falkenberg,  of  course, 


WANDERERS  107 

would  mention  it  in  the  kitchen,  and  perhaps  show  the 
letter  round,  it  had  to  be  delicacy  itself.  But  it  was 
not  all  delicacy  and  nothing  else  ;  I  fixed  a  definite 
date,  to  make  it  serious :  I  will  come  for  the  machine 
on  Monday,  nth  December. 

I  thought  to  myself:  there,  that's  clear  and  sound  ; 
if  the  machine's  not  there  that  Monday,  why,  then, 
something  will  happen. 

I  took  the  letter  to  the  post  myself,  and  stuck  a  strip 
of  stamps  across  the  envelope  as  before.  .  .  . 

My  beautiful  ecstasy  was  still  on  me.  I  had  received 
the  loveliest  letter  in  the  world  ;  here  it  was  in  my 
breast  pocket ;  it  was  to  me.  Shril)  ikke.  No,  indeed, 
but  I  could  come.  And  then  a  dash  at  the  end. 

There  wasn't  anything  wrong,  by  any  chance,  about 
that  underlining  the  word  :  as,  for  instance,  meaning  to 
emphasise  the  whole  thing  as  an  order  ?  Ladies  were 
always  so  fond  of  underlining  all  sorts  of  words,  and 
putting  in  dashes  here,  there,  and  everywhere.  But 
not  she  ;  no,  not  she ! 

A  few  days  more,  and  the  work  at  the  Lensmand's 
would  be  at  an  end  ;  it  fitted  in  very  well,  everything 
worked  out  nicely  ;  on  the  nth  I  was  to  be  at  0vreb0. 
And  that  perhaps  not  a  minute  too  soon.  If  the  Captain 
really  had  any  idea  of  his  own  about  my  machine,  it 
would  be  necessary  to  act  at  once.  Was  a  stranger  to 
come  stealing  my  hard-earned  million  ?  Hadn't  I  toiled 
for  it  ?  I  almost  began  to  regret  the  gentleness  of  my 
letter  to  Falkenberg  ;  I  might  have  made  it  a  good  deal 
sharper ;  now,  perhaps,  he  would  imagine  I  was  too 
soft  to  stand  up  for  myself.  Why,  he  might  even  take 
it  into  his  head  to  bear  witness  against  me,  and  say 
I  hadn't  invented  the  machine  at  all !  Hoho,  Master 
Falkenberg,  just  try  it  on !  In  the  first  place,  'twill 
cost  you  your  eternal  salvation ;  and  if  that's  not 
enough,  I'll  have  you  up  for  perjury  before  my  friend 


1 08  WANDERERS 

and  patron,  the  Lensmand.  And  you  know  what 
that'll  mean. 

"  Of  course  you  must  go,"  said  the  Lensmand  when 
I  spoke  to  him  about  it.  "And  just  come  back  here 
to  me  with  your  machine.  You  must  look  after  your 
interests,  of  course  ;  it  may  be  a  question  of  something 
considerable." 

The  following  day's  post  brought  a  piece  of  news 
that  changed  the  situation  in  a  moment ;  there  was  a 
letter  from  Captain  Falkenberg  himself  in  the  paper, 
saying  it  was  due  to  a  misunderstanding  that  the  new 
timber  saw  had  been  stated  as  being  of  his  invention. 
The  apparatus  had  been  designed  by  a  man  who  had 
worked  on  his  estate  some  time  back.  As  to  its 
value,  he  would  not  express  any  opinion. — Captain 
Falkenberg. 

The  Lensmand  and  I  looked  at  each  other. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  say  now  ?  "  he  asked. 

"That  the  Captain,  at  any  rate,  is  innocent." 

"  Ho  !     D'you  know  what  I  think  ?  " 

Pause.  The  Lensmand  playing  Lensmand  from  top 
to  toe,  unravelling  schemes  and  plots. 

"  He  is  not  innocent,"  said  he. 

"Really?" 

"Ah,  I've  seen  that  sort  of  thing  before.  Drawing 
in  his  horns,  that's  all.  Your  letter  put  him  on  his 
guard.  Haha ! " 

At  this  I  had  to  confess  to  the  Lensmand  that  I  had 
not  written  to  the  Captain  at  all,  but  had  merely  sent  a 
bit  of  a  note  to  one  of  the  hands  at  0vreb0  ;  and  even 
that  letter  could  not  have  reached  there  yet,  seeing  it 
was  only  posted  the  night  before. 

This  left  the  Lensmand  dumb,  and  he  gave  up  un- 
ravelling things.  On  the  other  hand,  he  seemed  from 
now  onward  to  be  greatly  in  doubt  as  to  whether  the 
whole  thing  had  any  value  at  all. 


WANDERERS  109 

"  Quite  likely  the  machine's  no  good  at  all,"  he  said. 
But  then  he  added  kindly:  "I  mean,  it  may  need 
touching  up  a  bit,  and  improving.  You've  seen  your- 
self how  they're  always  altering  things  like  warships 
and  flying-machines.  .  .  .  Are  you  still  determined 
to  go  ?  " 

No  more  was  said  about  my  coming  back  here  and 
bringing  the  machine  with  me.  But  the  Lensmand 
wrote  me  a  very  nice  recommendation.  He  would 
gladly  have  kept  me  on  longer,  it  said,  but  the 
work  was  interrupted  by  private  affairs  of  my  own 
elsewhere.  .  .  . 

In  the  morning,  when  I  was  ready  to  start,  a  little 
girl  stood  in  the  courtyard  waiting  for  me  to  come  out. 
It  was  Olga.  Was  there  ever  such  a  child  ?  She  must 
have  been  afoot  since  midnight  to  get  here  so  early. 
And  there  she  stood  in  her  blue  skirt  and  her  jacket. 

"  That  you,  Olga  ?     Where  are  you  going  ?  " 

She  had  come  to  see  me. 

How  did  she  know  I  was  here? 

She  had  asked  about  me  and  found  out  where  I  was. 
And  please  was  it  true  she  was  to  keep  the  sewing- 
machine?  But  of  course  it  couldn't  .  .  . 

Yes,  the  machine  was  hers  all  right ;  hadn't  I  taken 
her  picture  in  exchange?  Did  it  work  all  right? 

Yes,  it  worked  all  right. 

We  did  not  talk  much  together  ;  I  wanted  to  get 
her  away  before  the  Lensmand  came  out  and  began 
asking  questions. 

"Well,  run  along  home  now,  child  ;  you've  a  long 
way  to  go." 

Olga  gives  me  her  hand — it  is  swallowed  up 
completely  in  mine,  and  she  lets  it  lie  there  as  long 
as  I  will.  Then  she  thanks  me,  and  shambles  gaily 
off  again.  And  her  toes  turning  in  and  out  all 
odd  ways. 


no  WANDERERS 

XXXII 

I  am  nearly  at  my  goal. 

Sunday  evening  I  lay  in  a  watchman's  hut  not  far 
from  0vrebo,  so  as  to  be  on  the  place  early  Monday 
morning.  By  nine  o'clock  everyone  would  be  up,  then 
surely  I  must  be  lucky  enough  to  meet  the  one  I  sought. 

I  had  grown  dreadfully  nervous,  and  kept  imagining 
ugly  things.  I  had  written  a  nice  letter  to  Falkenberg, 
using  no  sharp  words,  but  the  Captain  might  after  all 
have  been  offended  at  my  fixing  the  date  like  that ; 
giving  him  so  and  so  much  time.  ...  If  only  I  had 
never  written  at  all ! 

Coming  up  towards  the  house  I  stoop  more  and 
more,  and  make  myself  small,  though  indeed  I  had 
done  no  wrong.  I  turn  off  from  the  road  up,  and  go 
round  so  as  to  reach  the  outbuildings  first — and  there 
I  come  upon  Falkenberg.  He  is  washing  down  the 
carriage.  We  gave  each  other  greeting,  and  were 
the  same  good  comrades  as  before. 

Was  he  going  out  with  the  carriage? 

No,  just  come  back  the  night  before.  Been  to  the 
railway  station. 

Who  had  gone  away,  then  ? 

Fruen. 

Fruen  ? 

Fruen,  yes. 

Pause. 

Really  ?     And  where  was  Fruen  gone  to  ? 

Gone  to  stay  in  town  for  a  bit. 

Pause. 

"  Stranger  man's  been  here  writing  in  the  papers 
about  that  machine  of  yours,"  says  Falkenberg. 

"  Is  the  Captain  gone  away  too?  " 

"  No,  Captain's  at  home.  You  should  have  seen  his 
face  when  your  letter  came." 


WANDERERS  1 1 1 

I  got  Falkenberg  to  come  up  to  the  old  loft.  I  had 
still  two  bottles  of  wine  in  my  sack,  and  I  took  them 
out  and  we  started  on  them  together ;  eh,  those  bottles 
that  I  had  carried  backward  and  forward,  mile  after 
mile,  and  had  to  be  so  careful  with,  they  served  me 
well  just  now.  Save  for  them  Falkenberg  would 
never  have  said  so  much. 

"What  was  that  about  the  Captain  and  my  letter? 
Did  he  see  it?" 

"  Well,  it  began  like  this,"  said  Falkenberg.  "  Fruen 
was  in  the  kitchen  when  I  came  in  with  the  post. 
'  What  letter's  that  with  all  those  stamps  on  ? '  she  says. 
I  opened  it,  and  said  it  was  from  you,  to  say  you  were 
coming  on  the  nth." 

"  And  what  did  she  say  ?  " 

"She  didn't  say  any  more.  Yes,  she  asked  once 
again,  'Coming  on  the  nth,  is  he?'  And  I  said 
yes,  he  was." 

"And  then,  a  couple  of  days  after,  you  got  orders 
to  drive  her  to  the  station  ?  " 

"Why,  yes,  it  must  have  been  about  a  couple  of 
days.  Well,  then,  I  thought,  if  Fruen  knows  about 
the  letter,  then  Captain  surely  knows  too.  D'you 
know  what  he  said  when  I  brought  it  in?" 

I  made  no  answer  to  this,  but  thought  and  thought. 
There  must  be  something  behind  all  this.  Was  she 
running  away  from  me  ?  Madman  !  the  Captain's  lady 
at  0vreb0  would  not  run  away  from  one  of  her  labourers. 
But  the  whole  thing  seemed  so  strange.  I  had  hoped 
all  along  she  would  give  me  leave  to  speak  with  her, 
since  I  was  forbidden  to  write. 

Falkenberg  went  on,  a  little  awkwardly : 

"Well,  I  showed  the  Captain  your  letter,  though 
you  didn't  say  I  was  to.  Was  there  any  harm  in 
that?" 

"  It  doesn't  matter.     What  did  he  say  ?  " 


112  WANDERERS 

"'Yes,  look  after  the  machine,  do,'  he  said,  and 
made  a  face.  '  In  case  anyone  comes  to  steal  it,'  he 
said." 

"Then  the  Captain's  angry  with  me  now?" 

"  Nay,  I  shouldn't  think  so.  I've  heard  no  more 
about  it  since  that  day." 

It  mattered  little  after  all  about  the  Captain.  When 
Falkenberg  had  taken  a  deal  of  wine,  I  asked  him  if 
he  knew  where  Fruen  was  staying  in  town.  No,  but 
Emma  might,  perhaps.  We  get  hold  of  Emma,  treat 
her  to  wine,  talk  a  lot  of  nonsense,  and  work  gradually 
round  to  the  point ;  at  last  asking  in  a  delicate  way. 
No,  Emma  didn't  know  the  address.  But  Fruen  had 
gone  in  to  buy  things  for  Christmas,  and  she  was 
going  with  Froken  Elisabeth  from  the  vicarage,  so 
they'd  know  the  address  there.  What  did  I  want 
it  for,  by  the  way? 

Well,  it  was  only  about  a  filigree  brooch  I  had  got 
hold  of,  and  wanted  to  ask  if  she'd  care  to  buy  it. 

"  Let's  look." 

Luckily  I  was  able  to  show  her  the  brooch  ;  it  was 
a  beautiful  piece  of  old  work  ;  I  had  bought  it  of  one 
of  the  maids  at  Hersaet. 

"  Fruen  wouldn't  have  it,"  said  Emma.  "  I  wouldn't 
have  it  myself." 

"  Not  if  you  got  me  into  the  bargain,  Emma,  what  ?  " 
And  I  force  myself  to  jest  again. 

Emma  goes  off.  I  try  drawing  out  Falkenberg 
again.  Falkenberg  was  sharp  enough  at  times  to 
understand  people. 

Did  he  still  sing  for  Fruen  ? 

Lord,  no  ;  that  was  all  over.  Falkenberg  wished  he 
hadn't  taken  service  here  at  all  ;  'twas  nothing  but 
trouble  and  misery  about  the  place. 

Trouble  and  misery?  Weren't  they  friends,  then, 
the  Captain  and  his  lady  ? 


WANDERERS  1 1 3 

Oh  yes,  they  were  friends.  In  the  same  old  way. 
Last  Saturday  she  had  been  crying  all  day. 

"  Funny  thing  it  should  be  like  that,"  say  I,  "  when 
they're  so  upright  and  considerate  towards  each  other." 
And  I  watch  to  see  what  Falkenberg  says  to  that. 

"Eh,  but  they're  ever  weary,"  says  Falkenberg  in  his 
Valdres  dialect.  "And  she's  losing  her  looks  too. 
Only  in  the  time  you've  been  gone,  she's  got  all 
pale  and  thin." 

I  sat  up  in  the  loft  for  a  couple  of  hours,  keeping  an 
eye  on  the  main  building  from  my  window,  but  the 
Captain  did  not  appear.  Why  didn't  he  go  out  ?  It 
was  hopeless  to  wait  any  longer ;  I  should  have  to  go 
without  making  my  excuses  to  the  Captain.  I  could 
have  found  good  grounds  enough  ;  I  might  have  put 
the  blame  on  to  the  first  article  in  tfie  paper,  and  said  it 
had  rather  turned  my  head  for  the  moment — and  there 
was  some  truth  in  that.  Well,  all  I  had  to  do  now 
was  to  tie  up  the  machine  in  a  bundle,  cover  it  up 
as  far  as  possible  with  my  sack,  and  start  off  on  my 
wanderings  again. 

Emma  stole  some  food  for  me  before  I  went. 

It  was  another  long  journey  this  time  ;  first  to  the 
vicarage — though  that  was  but  a  little  out  of  the  way — 
and  then  on  to  the  railway  station.  A  little  snow  was 
falling,  which  made  it  rather  heavy  walking  ;  and  what 
was  more,  I  could  not  take  it  easy  now,  but  must  get 
on  as  fast  as  I  could.  The  ladies  were  only  staying  in 
town  for  their  Christmas  shopping,  and  they  had  a 
good  start  already. 

On  the  following  afternoon  I  came  to  the  vicarage. 
I  had  reckoned  out  it  would  be  best  to  speak  with 
Fruen. 

"I'm   on   my  way  into   town,"  I    told   her.     "And 
I've  this  machine  thing  with  me  ;  if  I  might  leave  the 
heaviest  of  the  woodwork  here  meanwhile  ?  " 
8 


114  WANDERERS 

"Are  you  going  into  town?"  says  Fruen.  "But 
you'll  stay  here  till  to-morrow,  surely  ?  " 

"No,  thanks  all  the  same.  I've  got  to  be  in  town 
to-morrow." 

Fruen  thinks  for  a  bit  and  then  says  : 

"  Elisabeth's  in  town.  You  might  take  a  parcel  in 
for  her — something  she's  forgotten." 

That  gives  me  the  address  !  I  thought  to  myself. 

"  But  I've  got  to  get  it  ready  first." 

"Then  Fr0ken  Elisabeth  might  be  gone  again  before 
I  got  there  ?  " 

"Oh  no;  she's  with  Fru  Falkenberg,  and  they're 
staying  in  town  for  the  week." 

This  was  grand  news,  joyous  news.  Now  I  had  both 
the  address  and  the  time. 

Fruen  stands  watching  me  sideways,  and  says  : 

"  Well,  then,  you'll  stay  the  night,  won't  you?  You 
see,  it's  something  I've  got  to  get  ready  first  ..." 

I  was  given  a  room  in  the  main  building,  because  it 
was  too  cold  to  sleep  in  the  barn.  And  when  all  the 
household  had  gone  to  rest  that  night,  and  everything 
was  quiet,  came  Fruen  to  my  room  with  the  parcel, 
and  said : 

"  Excuse  my  coming  so  late.  But  I  thought  you 
might  be  going  early  to-morrow  morning  before  I 
was  up." 

XXXIII 

So  here  I  am  once  more  in  the  crush  and  noise  of 
a  city,  with  its  newspapers  and  people.  I  have  been 
away  from  all  this  for  many  months  now,  and  find  it 
not  unpleasant.  I  spend  a  morning  taking  it  all  in  ; 
get  hold  of  some  other  clothes,  and  set  off  to  find 
Froken  Elisabeth  at  her  address.  She  was  staying 
with  some  relatives. 

And  now — should   I   be  lucky  enough  to  meet  the 


WANDERERS  1 1 5 

other  one?  I  am  restless  as  a  boy.  My  hands  are 
vulgarly  unused  to  gloves,  and  I  pull  them  off;  then 
going  up  the  step  I  notice  that  my  hands  do  not  go  at 
all  well  with  the  clothes  I  am  wearing,  and  I  put  on 
my  gloves  again.  Then  I  ring  the  bell. 

"  Froken  Elisabeth?  Yes,  would  you  wait  a 
moment  ?  " 

Froken  Elisabeth  comes  out.  "  Goddag.  You  wished 
to  speak  to  ...  Oh,  is  it  you  ?  " 

I  had  brought  a  parcel  from  her  mother.     Vcersaagod. 

She  tears  open  the  parcel  and  looks  inside.  "Oh, 
fancy  Mama  thinking  of  that.  The  opera-glasses ! 
We've  been  to  the  theatre  already.  ...  I  didn't  recog- 
nise you  at  first." 

"Really!     It's  not  so  very  long  since  ..." 

"  No,  but  .  .  .  Tell  me,  isn't  there  anyone  else  you'd 
like  to  inquire  about  ?  Haha !  " 

"Yes,"  said  I. 

"Well,  she's  not  here.  I'm  only  staying  here  with 
my  relations.  No,  she's  at  the  Victoria." 

"Well,  the  parcel  was  for  you,"  said  I,  trying  to 
master  my  disappointment. 

"  Wait  a  minute.  I  was  just  going  out  again  ;  we 
can  go  together." 

Froken  Elisabeth  puts  on  some  over-things,  calls  out 
through  a  door  to  say  she  won't  be  very  long,  and  goes 
out  with  me.  We  take  a  cab  and  drive  to  a  quiet 
cafe.  Froken  Elisabeth  says  yes,  she  loves  going  to 
cafes.  But  there's  nothing  very  amusing  about  this 
one. 

Would  she  rather  go  somewhere  else  ? 

"Yes.     To  the  Grand." 

I  hesitated  ;  it  might  be  hardly  safe.  I  had  been 
away  for  a  long  time  now,  and  if  we  met  anyone  I  knew 
I  might  have  to  talk  to  them.  But  Frokenen  insisted  on 
the  Grand.  She  had  had  but  a  few  days'  practice  in  the 


u6  WANDERERS 

capital,  and  had  already  gained  a  deal  of  self-assurance. 
But  I  liked  her  so  much  before. 

We  drove  off  again  to  the  Grand.  It  was  getting 
towards  evening.  Fr0kenen  picks  out  a  seat  right  in 
the  brightest  spot,  beaming  all  over  herself  at  the  fun 
of  it.  I  ordered  some  wine. 

"What  fine  clothes  you're  wearing  now,"  she  says, 
with  a  laugh. 

"I  couldn't  very  well  corne  in  here  in  a  workman's 
blouse." 

"  No,  of  course  not.  But,  honestly,  that  blouse  ..  .  . 
shall  I  tell  you  what  I  think?  " 

"Yes,  do." 

"The  blouse  suited  you  better." 

There !  Devil  take  these  town  clothes !  I  sat 
there  with  my  head  full  of  other  things,  and  did  not 
care  for  this  sort  of  talk. 

"  Are  you  staying  long  in  town  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  As  long  as  Lovise  does.  We've  finished  our  shop- 
ping. No,  I'm  sorry ;  it's  all  too  short."  Then  she  turns 
gay  once  more,  and  asks  laughingly:  "Did  you  like 
being  with  us  out  in  the  country  ?  " 

"  Yes.     That  was  a  pleasant  time." 

"  And  will  you  come  again  soon  ?     Haha !  " 

She  seemed  to  be  making  fun  of  me.  Trying,  of 
course,  to  show  she  saw  through  me :  that  I  hadn't 
played  my  part  well  enough  as  a  country  labourer. 
Child  that  she  was  !  I  could  teach  many  a  labourer  his 
business,  and  had  more  than  one  trade  at  my  finger- 
ends.  Though  in  my  true  calling  I  manage  to  achieve 
just  the  next  best  of  all  I  dream.  .  .  . 

"  Shall  I  ask  Papa  to  put  up  a  notice  on  the  post 
next  spring,  to  say  you're  willing  to  lay  down  water- 
pipes  and  so  on  ?  " 

She  closed  her  eyes  and  laughed — so  heartily  she 
laughed. 


WANDERERS  117 

I  am  torn  with  excitement,  and  her  merriment  pains 
me,  though  it  is  all  good-humoured  enough.  I  glance 
round  the  place,  trying  to  pull  myself  together ;  here 
and  there  an  acquaintance  nods  to  me,  and  I  return  it  ; 
it  all  seems  so  far  away  to  me.  I  was  sitting  with  a 
charming  girl,  and  that  made  people  notice  us. 

"  You  know  these  people,  it  seems?" 

"Yes,  one  or  two  of  them.  Have  you  enjoyed  your- 
self in  town?" 

"  Oh  yes,  immensely.  I've  two  boy  cousins  here, 
and  then  there  were  their  friends  as  well." 

"Poor  young  Erik,  out  in  the  country,"  said  I 
jestingly. 

"  Oh,  you  with  your  young  Erik.  No,  there's  one 
here  in  town  ;  his  name's  Bewer.  But  I'm  not  friends 
with  him  just  now." 

"  Oh,  that  won't  last  long." 

"Do  you  think  so?  Really,  though,  I'm  rather 
serious  about  it.  I've  an  idea  he  might  be  coming  in 
here  this  evening." 

"  You  must  point  him  out  to  me,  if  he  does." 

"  I  thought,  as  we  drove  out  here,  that  you  and  I 
could  sit  here  together,  you  know,  and  make  him 
jealous." 

"Right,  then,  we  will." 

"Yes,  but  .  .  .  No,  you'd  have  to  be  a  bit  younger. 
I  mean  .  .  ." 

I  forced  myself  to  laugh.  Oh,  we  would  manage 
all  right.  Don't  despise  us  old  ones,  us  ancient  ones, 
we  can  be  quite  surprisingly  useful  at  times.  "  Only 
you'd  better  let  me  sit  on  the  sofa  beside  you  there,  so 
he  can't  see  I'm  bald  at  the  back." 

Eh,  but  it  is  hard  to  take  that  perilous  transition  to 
old  age  in  any  quiet  and  beautiful  way.  There  comes 
a  forcedness,  a  play  of  jerky  effort  and  grimaces,  the 
fight  against  those  younger  than  ourselves,  and  envy. 


n8  WANDERERS 

"Froken  ..."  I  ask  this  of  her  now  with  all  my 
heart.  "  Froken,  couldn't  you  ring  up  Fru  Falkenberg 
and  get  her  to  come  round  here  now  ?  " 

She  thinks  for  a  moment. 

"Yes,  we  will,"  she  says  generously. 

We  go  out  to  the  telephone,  ring  up  the  Victoria : 
Fruen  is  there. 

"Is  that  you,  Lovise?  You'd  never  guess  who 
I'm  with  now?  Won't  you  come  along?  Oh,  good! 
We're  at  the  Grand.  No,  I  can't  tell  you  now.  Yes, 
of  course  it's  a  man — only  he's  a  gentleman  now — I 
won't  say  who  it  is.  Are  you  coming?  Why,  you 
said  just  now  you  would  !  Some  people  ?  Oh,  well, 
do  as  you  like,  of  course,  but  I  do  think  .  .  .  Yes, 
he's  standing  here.  You  are  in  a  hurry  .  .  ." 

Froken  Elisabeth  rang  off,  and  said  shortly : 

"  She  had  to  go  and  see  some  friends." 

We  went  back  to  our  seat,  and  had  some  more  wine  ; 
I  tried  to  be  cheerful,  and  suggested  champagne.  Yes, 
thanks.  And  then,  as  we're  sitting  there,  Frokenen 
says  suddenly : 

"Oh,  there's  Bewerl  I'm  so  glad  we're  drinking 
champagne." 

But  I  have  only  one  idea  in  my  mind,  and  being  now 
called  upon  to  show  what  I  can  do,  and  charm  this 
young  lady  to  the  ultimate  advantage  of  someone  else, 
I  find  myself  saying  one  thing  and  thinking  another. 
Which,  of  course,  leads  to  disaster.  I  cannot  get  that 
telephone  conversation  out  of  my  head  ;  she  must  have 
had  an  idea — have  realised  that  it  was  I  who  was  wait- 
ing for  her  here.  But  what  on  earth  had  I  done? 
Why  had  I  been  dismissed  so  suddenly  from  0vreb0, 
and  Falkenberg  taken  on  in  my  place  ?  Quite  possibly 
the  Captain  and  his  wife  were  not  always  the  best  of 
friends,  but  the  Captain  had  scented  danger  in  my 
being  there,  and  wished  to  save  his  wife  at  least  from 


WANDERERS  119 

such  an  ignominious  fall.  And  now,  here  she  was, 
feeling  ashamed  that  I  had  worked  on  her  place,  that 
she  had  used  me  to  drive  her  carriage,  and  twice 
shared  food  with  me  by  the  way.  And  she  was  ashamed, 
too,  of  my  being  no  longer  young.  .  .  . 

"This  will  never  do,"  says  Froken  Elisabeth. 

So  I  pull  myself  together  again  and  start  saying  all 
manner  of  foolish  things,  to  make  her  laugh.  I  drink 
a  good  deal  and  that  helps  ;  at  last,  she  really  seems 
to  fancy  I  am  making  myself  agreeable  to  her  on  her 
own  account.  She  looks  at  me  curiously. 

"  No,  really,  though,  do  you  think  I'm  nice?  " 

' '  Oh,  please — don't  you  understand  ? — I  was  speaking 
of  Fru  Falkenberg." 

"  Sh !  "  says  Froken  Elisabeth.  "Of  course  it  is 
Fru  Falkenberg  ;  I  know  that  perfectly  well,  but  you 
need  not  say  so.  ...  I  really  think  we're  beginning 
to  make  an  impression  on  him  over  there.  Let's  go 
on  like  we  are  doing,  and  look  interested." 

So  she  hadn't  imagined  I  was  trying  on  my  own 
account,  after  all.  I  was  too  old  for  that  sort  of  thing, 
anyway.  Devil  take  it,  yes,  of  course. 

"But  you  can't  get  Fru  Falkenberg,"  she  says, 
beginning  again.  "  It's  simply  hopeless." 

"  No,  I  can't  get  her.     Nor  you  either." 

"  Are  you  speaking  to  Fru  Falkenberg  now  again  ?  " 

"  No,  it  was  to  you  this  time." 

Pause. 

"  Do  you  know  I  was  in  love  with  you?  Yes,  when 
I  was  at  home." 

"This  is  getting  quite  amusing,"  said  I,  shifting  up 
on  the  sofa.  "  Oh,  we'll  manage  Bewer,  never  fear." 

"  Yes,  only  fancy,  I  used  to  go  up  to  the  churchyard 
to  meet  you  in  the  evenings.  But  you,  foolish  person, 
you  didn't  see  it  a  bit." 

"  Now  you're  talking  to  Bewer,  of  course,"  said  I. 


120  WANDERERS 

"  No,  it's  perfectly  true.  And  I  came  over  one  day 
when  you  were  working  in  the  potato  fields.  It  wasn't 
your  young  Erik  I  came  to  see,  not  a  bit." 

"  Only  think,  that  it  should  have  been  me,"  I  say, 
putting  on  a  melancholy  air. 

"Yes,  of  course  you  think  it  was  strange.  But 
really,  you  know,  people  who  live  in  the  country  must 
have  someone  to  be  fond  of  too." 

"  Does  Fru  Falkenberg  say  the  same?  " 

"  Fru  Falkenberg?  No,  she  says  she  doesn't  want 
to  be  fond  of  anybody,  only  play  her  piano  and  that 
sort  of  thing.  But  I  was  speaking  of  myself.  Do  you 
know  what  I  did  once?  No,  really,  I  can't  tell  you 
that.  Do  you  want  to  know  ?  " 

"Yes,  tell  me." 

"  Well,  then  .  .  .  for,  after  all,  I'm  only  a  child  com- 
pared to  you,  so  it  doesn't  matter.  It  was  when  you 
were  sleeping  in  the  barn  ;  I  went  over  there  one  day 
and  laid  your  rugs  together  properly,  and  made  a 
proper  bed." 

"  Was  it  you  did  that?  "  I  burst  out  quite  sincerely, 
forgetting  to  play  my  part. 

"You  ought  to  have  seen  me  stealing  in.    Hahaha!  " 

But  this  young  girl  was  not  artful  enough,  she 
changed  colour  at  her  little  confession,  and  laughed 
forcedly  to  cover  her  confusion. 

I  try  to  help  her  out,  and  say : 

"  You're  really  good-hearted,  you  know.  Fru 
Falkenberg  would  never  have  done  a  thing  like  that." 

"  No  ;  but  then  she's  older.  Did  you  think  we  were 
the  same  age  ?  " 

"  Does  Fru  Falkenberg  say  she  doesn't  'want  to  be 
fond  of  anybody  ?  " 

"Yes.  Oh  no  ...  bother,  I  don't  know.  Fru 
Falkenberg's  married,  of  course ;  she  doesn't  say 
anything.  Now  talk  to  me  again  a  little.  .  .  .  Yes, 


WANDERERS  121 

and  do  you  remember  the  time  we  went  up  to  the  store 
to  buy  things,  you  know  ?  And  I  kept  walking  slower 
and  slower  for  you  to  catch  up.  .  .  ." 

"  Yes  .  .  .  that  was  nice  of  you.  And  now  I'll  do 
something  for  you  in  return." 

I  rose  from  my  seat,  and  walked  across  to  where 
young  Bewer  sat,  and  asked  if  he  would  not  care  to 
join  us  at  our  table.  I  brought  him  along  ;  Froken 
Elisabeth  flushed  hotly  as  he  came  up.  Then  I  talked 
those  two  young  people  well  together,  which  done,  I 
suddenly  remembered  I  had  some  business  to  do,  and 
must  go  off  at  once.  "  I'm  ever  so  sorry  to  leave  just 
now.  Froken  Elisabeth,  I'm  afraid  you've  bewitched 
me  completely  ;  but  I  realise  it's  hopeless  to  think  of 
it.  It's  a  marvel  to  me,  by  the  way.  .  .  ." 

XXXIV 

I  shambled  over  to  Raadhusgaten,  and  stood  awhile 
by  the  cab-stand,  watching  the  entrance  to  the  Victoria. 
But,  of  course,  she  had  gone  to  see  some  friends.  I 
drifted  into  the  hotel,  and  got  into  talk  with  the  porter. 

Yes,  Fruen  was  in.     Room  No.  12,  first  floor. 

Then  she  was  not  out  visiting  friends  ? 

No. 

Was  she  leaving  shortly  ? 

Fruen  had  not  said  so. 

I  went  out  into  the  street  again,  and  the  cabmen 
flung  up  their  aprons,  inviting  my  patronage.  I  picked 
out  a  cab  and  got  in. 

"Whereto?" 

"Just  stay  where  you  are.  I'm  hiring  you  by  the 
hour." 

The  cabmen  walk  about  whispering,  one  suggesting 
this,  another  that :  he's  watching  the  place ;  out  to 
catch  his  wife  meeting  some  commercial  traveller. 


122  WANDERERS 

Yes,  I  am  watching  the  place.  There  is  light  in  one 
or  two  of  the  rooms,  and  suddenly  it  strikes  me  that 
she  might  stand  at  a  window  and  see  me.  "  Wait," 
I  say  to  the  cabman,  and  go  into  the  hotel  again. 

"  Whereabouts  is  No.  12  ?" 

"  First  floor." 

"  Looking  out  on  to  Raadhusgaten  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"Then  it  must  have  been  my  sister,"  I  say,  invent- 
ing something  in  order  to  slip  past  the  porter. 

I  go  up  the  stairs,  and,  to  give  myself  no  chance  of 
turning  back,  I  knock  at  the  door  the  moment  I  have 
seen  the  number.  No  answer.  I  knock  again. 

"  Is  it  the  maid?  "  comes  a  voice  from  within. 

I  could  not  answer  yes ;  my  voice  would  have 
betrayed  me.  I  tried  the  handle — the  door  was  locked. 
Perhaps  she  had  been  afraid  I  might  come  ;  possibly 
she  had  seen  me  outside. 

"  No,  it's  not  the  maid,"  I  say,  and  I  can  hear  how 
the  words  quiver  strangely. 

I  stand  listening  a  long  while  after  that ;  I  can  hear 
someone  moving  inside,  but  the  door  remains  closed. 
Then  come  two  short  rings  from  one  of  the  rooms 
down  to  the  hall.  It  must  be  she,  I  say  to  myself;  she 
is  feeling  uneasy,  and  has  rung  for  the  maid.  I  move 
away  from  her  door,  to  avoid  any  awkwardness  for 
her,  and,  when  the  maid  comes,  I  walk  past  as  if  going 
downstairs.  Then  the  maid  says,  "  Yes,  the  maid," 
and  the  door  is  opened. 

"  No,  no,"  says  the  maid  ;  "  only  a  gentleman  going 
downstairs." 

I  thought  of  taking  a  room  at  the  hotel,  but  the  idea 
was  distasteful  to  me  ;  she  was  not  a  runaway  wife 
meeting  commercial  travellers.  When  I  came  down,  I 
remarked  to  the  porter  as  I  passed  that  Fruen  seemed 
to  be  lying  down. 


WANDERERS  123 

Then  I  went  out  and  got  into  my  cab  again.  The 
time  passes,  a  whole  hour  ;  the  cabman  wants  to  know 
if  I  do  not  feel  cold  ?  Well,  yes,  a  little.  Was  I  wait- 
ing for  someone?  Yes.  .  .  .  He  hands  me  down  his 
rug  from  the  box,  and  I  tip  him  the  price  of  a  drink 
for  his  thoughtfulness. 

Time  goes  on  ;  hour  after  hour.  The  cabmen  talk 
unrestrainedly  now,  saying  openly  one  to  another  that 
I'm  letting  the  horse  freeze  to  death. 

No,  it  was  no  good.  I  paid  for  the  cab,  went  home, 
and  wrote  the  following  letter : 

"  You  -would  not  let  me  'write  to  you ;  will  you  not  let 
-me  see  you  once  again?  I  will  ask  for  you  at  the  hotel 
at  five  to-morrow  afternoon." 

Should  I  have  fixed  an  earlier  hour  ?  But  the 
light  in  the  forenoon  was  so  white  ;  if  I  felt  moved 
and  my  mouth  twitched,  I  should  look  a  dreadful 
sight. 

I  took  the  letter  round  myself  to  the  hotel,  and  went 
home  again. 

A  long  night — oh,  how  long  were  those  hours  !  Now, 
when  I  ought  to  sleep  and  stretch  myself  and  feel 
refreshed,  I  could  not.  Day  dawned,  and  I  got  up. 
After  a  long  ramble  through  the  streets  I  came  back 
home  again,  and  slept. 

Hours  pass.  When  I  awake  and  come  to  my  senses, 
I  hurry  anxiously  to  the  telephone  to  ask  if  Fruen 
had  left. 

No,  Fruen  had  not  left. 

Thank  Heaven  then,  it  seemed  she  did  not  wish  to 
run  away  from  me  ;  she  must  have  had  my  letter  long 
since.  No ;  I  had  called  at  an  awkward  hour  the 
evening  before,  that  was  all. 

I  had  something  to  eat,  lay  down,  and  slept  again. 
When  I  woke  it  was  past  noon.  I  stumble  in  to  the 
telephone  again  and  ring  up  as  before. 


1 24  WANDERERS 

No,  Fruen  had  not  left  yet;  But  her  things  were 
packed.  She  was  out  just  now. 

I  got  ready  at  once,  and  hurried  round  to  Raadhus- 
gaten  to  stand  on  watch.  In  the  course  of  half  an 
hour  I  saw  a  number  of  people  pass  in  and  out,  not 
the  one  I  sought.  It  was  five  o'clock  now,  and  I  went 
in  and  spoke  to  the  porter. 

Fruen  was  gone. 

Gone? 

"  Was  it  you  that  rang  up  ?  She  came  just  at  that 
moment  and  took  her  things.  But  I've  a  letter  here." 

I  took  the  letter,  and,  without  opening  it,  asked 
about  the  train. 

"Train  left  at  4.45,"  says  the  porter,  looking  at  his 
watch.  "  It's  five  now." 

I  had  thrown  away  half  an  hour  keeping  watch 
outside. 

I  sit  down  on  one  of  the  steps,  staring  at  the  floor. 

The  porter  keeps  on  talking.  He  must  be  well 
aware  it  was  not  my  sister. 

"  I  said  to  Fruen  there  was  a  gentleman  had  just 
rung  up.  But  she  only  said  she  hadn't  time,  and 
would  I  give  him  this  letter." 

"  Was  there  another  lady  with  her  when  she  left?  " 

"  No." 

I  got  up  and  went  out.  In  the  street  I  opened  the 
letter  and  read  : 

"  You  must  not  follow  me  about  any  more " 

Impassively  I  put  the  thing  away.  It  had  not  sur- 
prised me,  had  made  no  new  impression.  Thoroughly 
womanly,  hasty  words,  written  on  impulse,  with  under- 
lining and  a  dash.  .  .  . 

Then  it  occurred  to  me  to  go  round  to  Froken 
Elisabeth's  address  ;  there  was  still  a  glimmer  of  hope. 
I  heard  the  door  bell  ring  inside  the  house  as  I  pressed, 
and  stood  listening  as  in  a  whirling  desert. 


WANDERERS  125 

Froken  Elisabeth  had  left  an  hour  before. 

Then  wine,  and  then  whisky.  And  then  endless 
whisky.  And  altogether  a  twenty-one  days'  debauch, 
in  the  course  of  which  a  curtain  falls  and  hides  my 
earthly  consciousness.  In  this  state,  it  enters  my  head 
one  day  to  send  something  to  a  little  cottage  in  the 
country.  It  is  a  mirror,  in  a  gay  gilt  frame.  And 
it  was  for  a  little  maid,  by  name  Olga,  a  creature 
touching  and  sweet  to  watch  as  a  young  calf. 

Ay,  for  I've  not  got  over  my  neurasthenia  yet. 

The  timber  saw  is  in  my  room.  But  I  cannot  put 
it  together  now,  for  the  bulk  of  the  wooden  parts  I  left 
behind  at  a  vicarage  in  the  country.  It  matters  little 
now,  my  love  for  the  thing  is  dulled.  My  neurasthenic 
friends,  believe  me,  folk  of  our  sort  are  useless  as 
human  beings,  and  we  should  not  even  do  for  any 
kind  of  beast. 

One  day  I  suppose  I  shall  grow  tired  of  this  uncon- 
sciousness, and  go  out  and  live  on  an  island  once  again. 


II 

WITH    MUTED    STRINGS 


127 


INTRODUCTION 

IT  looks  to  be  a  fine  year  for  berries,  yes  ;  whortle- 
berries, crowberries,  and  fintocks.     A  man  can't 
live  on  berries  ;  true  enough.     But  it  is  good  to 
have  them  growing  all  about,  and  a  kindly  thing  to  see. 
And  many  a  thirsty  and  hungry  man's  been  glad  to  find 
them. 

I  was  thinking  of  this  only  yesterday  evening. 
There's  two  or  three  months  yet  till  the  late  autumn 
berries  are  ripe  ;  yes,  I  know.  But  there  are  other  joys 
than  berries  in  the  wilds.  Spring  and  summer  they  are 
still  only  in  bloom,  but  there  are  harebells  and  lady- 
slipper,  deep,  windless  woods,  and  the  scent  of  trees, 
and  stillness.  There  is  a  sound  as  of  distant  waters 
from  the  heavens  ;  never  so  long-drawn  a  sound  in  all 
eternity.  And  a  thrush  may  be  singing  as  high  as  ever 
its  voice  can  go,  and  then,  just  at  its  highest  pitch, 
breaks  the  note  suddenly  at  a  right  angle  ;  clear  and 
clean  as  if  cut  with  a  diamond  ;  then  softly  and  sweetly 
down  the  scale  once  more.  Along  the  shore,  too,  there 
is  life  ;  guillemot,  oyster-catcher,  tern  are  busy  there  ; 
the  wagtail  is  out  in  search  of  food,  advancing  in  little 
spurts,  trim  and  pert  with  its  pointed  beak  and  swift 
little  flick  of  the  tail  ;  after  a  while  it  flies  up  to  perch 
on  a  fence  and  sing  with  the  rest.  But  when  the  sun 
has  set,  may  come  the  cry  of  a  loon  from  some  hill-tarn  ; 
a  melancholy  hurrah.  That  is  the  last ;  now  there  is 
only  the  grasshopper  left.  And  there's  nothing  to  say 
of  a  grasshopper,  you  never  see  it ;  it  doesn't  count, 
9 


130  WANDERERS 

only  he's  there  gritting  his  resiny  teeth,  as  you  might 
say. 

I  sit  and  think  of  all  these  things  ;  of  how  summer 
has  its  joys  for  a  wanderer,  so  there's  no  sort  of  need 
to  wait  till  autumn  comes. 

And  here   I   am  writing  cool  words  of  these  quiet 

things — for  all  the  world  as  if  there  were  no  violent  and 

perilous  happenings  ahead.     'Tis  a  trick,  and  I  learned 

it  of  a  man  in  the  southern  hemisphere — of  a  Mexican 

called  Rough.     The   brim  of  his  huge  hat  was  hung 

with  tinkling  sequins  ;    that  in  itself  was  a  thing  to 

remember.     And  most  of  all,  I  remember  how  calmly 

he  told  the  story  of  his  first  murder  :   "  I'd  a  sweetheart 

once   named    Maria,"  said    Rough,  with   that   patient 

look  of  his  ;  "  well,  she  was  no  more  than  sixteen,  and  I 

was  nineteen  then.     She'd  such  little  hands  when  you 

touched  them  ;  fingers  thin  and  slight,  you  know  the 

sort.     One  evening  the  master  called  her  in  from  the 

fields  to  do  some  sewing  for  him.     No  help  for  it  then  ; 

and  it  wasn't  more  than  a  day  again  before  he  calls  her 

in  same  as  before.     Well,  it  went  on  like  that  a  few 

weeks,  and  then  stopped.     Seven  months  after  Maria 

died,  and  they  buried  her,  little  hands  and  all.     I  went 

to    her    brother    Inez   and   said:     'At    six   to-morrow 

morning  the  master  rides  to  town,  and  he'll  be  alone.' 

'  I    know,'  said   he.     '  You  might   lend  me  that   little 

rifle  of  yours  to  shoot  him  with.'     '  I  shall  be  using  it 

myself,'  said  he.     Then  we  talked  for  a  bit  about  other 

things :  the  crops,  and  a  big  new  well  we'd  dug.     And 

when  I  left,  I  reached  down  his  rifle  from  the  wall  and 

took  it  with  me.     In  the  timber  I  heard  Inez  at  my 

heels,  calling  to  me  to  stop.     We  sat  down  and  talked 

a  bit  more  this  way  and  that ;  then  Inez  snatched  the 

rifle  away  from  me  and  went  home.     Next  morning  I 

was  up  early,  and  out  at  the  gate  ready  to  open  it  for 

the  master  ;  Inez  was  there  too,  hiding  in  the  bushes. 


WANDERERS  1 3 1 

I  told  him  he'd  better  go  on  ahead ;  we  didn't  want  to 
be  two  to  one.  '  He's  pistols  in  his  belt,'  said  Inez  ; 
'but  what  about  you?'  '  I  know,'  said  I  ;  'but  I've  a 
lump  of  lead  here,  and  that  makes  no  noise.'  I  showed 
him  the  lump  of  lead,  and  he  thought  for  a  bit ;  then  he 
went  home.  Then  the  master  came  riding  up ;  grey 
and  old  he  was,  sixty  at  least.  '  Open  the  gate  !  '  he 
called  out.  But  I  didn't.  He  thought  I  must  be  mad, 
no  doubt,  and  lashed  out  at  me  with  his  whip,  but  I 
paid  no  heed.  At  last  he  had  to  get  down  himself  to 
open  the  gate.  Then  I  gave  him  the  first  blow :  it  got 
him  just  by  one  eye  and  cut  a  hole.  He  said  '  Augh!' 
and  dropped.  I  said  a  few  words  to  him,  but  he  didn't 
understand  ;  after  a  few  more  blows  he  was  dead. 
He'd  a  deal  of  money  on  him  ;  I  took  a  little  to  help  me 
on  my  way,  then  I  mounted  and  rode  off.  Inez  was 
standing  in  the  doorway  as  I  rode  past  his  place. 
'  It's  only  three  and  a  half  days  to  the  frontier,'  he 
said." 

So  Rough  told  his  story,  and  sat  staring  coolly  in 
front  of  him  when  it  was  ended. 

I  have  no  murders  to  tell  of,  but  joys  and  sufferings 
and  love.  And  love  is  no  less  violent  and  perilous  than 
murder. 

Green  in  all  the  woods  now,  I  thought  to  myself  this 
morning  as  I  dressed.  The  snow  is  melting  on  the 
hills,  and  everywhere  the  cattle  in  their  sheds  are  eager 
and  anxious  to  be  out ;  in  houses  and  cottages  the 
windows  are  opened  wide.  I  open  my  shirt  and  let  the 
wind  blow  in  upon  me,  and  I  mark  how  I  grow  star- 
struck  and  uncontrollable  within  ;  ah,  for  a  moment  it 
is  all  as  years  ago,  when  I  was  young,  and  a  wilder 
spirit  than  now.  And  I  think  to  myself:  maybe  there's 
a  tract  of  woodland  somewhere  east  or  west  of  this, 
where  an  old  man  can  find  himself  as  well  bested  as  a 
young.  I  will  go  and  look  for  it. 


132  WANDERERS 

Rain  and  sun  and  wind  by  turns  ;  I  have  been  many 
days  on  the  road  already.  Too  cold  yet  to  lie  out  in 
the  open  at  night,  but  there  is  always  shelter  to  be  had 
at  farmsteads  by  the  way.  One  man  thinks  it  strang-e 
that  I  should  go  tramping  about  like  this  for  nothing  ; 
he  takes  me,  no  doubt,  for  somebody  in  disguise,  just 
trying  to  be  original  like  Wergeland.1  The  man  knows 
nothing  of  my  plans,  how  I  am  on  my  way  to  a  place 
I  know,  where  live  some  people  I  have  a  fancy  to  see 
again.  But  he  is  a  sensible  fellow  enough,  and  in- 
voluntarily I  nod  as  if  to  agree  there  is  something  in 
what  he  says.  There's  a  theatrical  touch  in  most  of  us 
that  makes  us  feel  flattered  at  being  taken  for  more 
than  we  are.  Then  up  come  his  wife  and  daughter, 
good,  ordinary  souls,  and  carry  all  away  with  their 
kindly  gossip  ;  he's  no  beggar,  they  say  ;  he  paid  for 
his  supper  and  all.  And  at  last  I  turn  crafty  and 
cowardly  and  say  never  a  word,  and  let  the  man  lay 
more  to  my  charge  and  still  never  a  word.  And  we 
three  hearty  souls  outwin  his  reasoning  sense,  and  he 
has  to  explain  he  was  only  jesting  all  the  time  ;  surely 
we  could  see  that.  I  stayed  a  night  and  a  day  there, 
and  greased  my  shoes  with  extra  care,  and  mended  my 
clothes. 

But  then  the  man  begins  to  suspect  once  more. 
"There'll  be  a  handsome  present  for  that  girl  of  mine 
when  you  leave,  I  know,"  says  he.  I  made  as  if  his 
words  had  no  effect,  and  answered  with  a  laugh  :  "  You 
think  so?"  "Yes,"  says  he  ;  "and  then  when  you're 
gone  we'll  sit  thinking  you  must  have  been  somebody 
grand,  after  all." 

A  detestable  fellow  this !      I   did  the  only  thing   I 

could :    ignored   his  sarcasm  and   asked   for  work.     I 

liked  the  place,  I  said,  and  he'd  need  of  help  ;  I  could 

turn   my   hand    to    anything    now   in  the   busy   time. 

1  A  Norwegian  poet. 


WANDERERS  133 

"You're  a  fool,"  said  he,  "and  the  sooner  you're  off 
the  place  the  better  I'll  be  pleased." 

Clearly  he  had  taken  a  dislike  to  me,  and  there  was 
none  of  the  womenfolk  at  hand  to  take  my  part.  I 
looked  at  the  man,  at  a  loss  to  understand  what  was 
in  his  mind.  His  glance  was  steady ;  it  struck  me 
suddenly  that  I  had  never  seen  such  wisdom  in  the  eyes 
of  man  or  woman.  But  he  carried  his  ill-will  too  far, 
and  made  a  false  step.  He  asked:  "What  shall  we 
say  your  name  was ?"  "No  need  to  say  anything  at 
all,"  I  answered.  "A  wandering  Eilert  Sundt?"1  he 
suggested.  And  I  entered  into  the  jest  and  answered : 
"  Yes,  why  not  ?  "  But  at  that  he  fired  up,  and  snapped 
out  sharply:  "Then  I'm  sorry  for  Fru  Sundt,  that's 
all."  I  shrugged  my  shoulders  in  return,  and  said: 
"  You're  wrong  there,  my  good  man  ;  I  am  not  married." 
And  I  turned  to  go.  But  with  an  unnatural  readiness 
he  called  after  me:  " 'Tis  you  that's  wrong:  I  meant 
for  the  mother  that  bore  you." 

A  little  way  down  the  road  I  turned,  and  saw  how 
his  wife  and  daughter  took  him  up.  And  I  thought  to 
myself:  no,  'tis  not  all  roses  when  one  goes  a- wandering. 

At  the  next  place  I  came  to  I  learned  that  he  had 
been  with  the  army,  as  quartermaster-sergeant ;  then 
he  went  mad  over  a  lawsuit  he  lost,  and  was  shut  up 
in  an  asylum  for  some  time.  Now  in  the  spring  his 
trouble  broke  out  again  ;  perhaps  it  was  my  coming 
that  had  given  the  final  touch.  But  the  lightning 
insight  in  his  eyes  at  the  moment  when  the  madness 
came  upon  him  !  I  think  of  him  now  and  again  ;  he 
was  a  lesson  to  me.  'Tis  none  so  easy  to  judge  of  men, 
who  are  wise  or  mad.  And  God  preserve  us  all  from 
being  known  for  what  we  are  ! 

That  day  I  passed  by  a  house  where  a  lad  sat  on  the 
1  An  itinerant  preacher. 


134  WANDERERS 

doorstep  playing1  a  mouth-organ.  He  was  no  musician 
to  speak  of,  but  a  cheerful  soul  he  must  surely  be,  to 
sit  there  playing  to  himself  like  that.  I  would  not 
disturb  him,  but  simply  raised  one  hand  to  my  cap, 
and  stood  a  little  distance  off.  He  took  no  notice  of 
me,  only  wiped  his  mouth-organ  and  went  on  playing. 
This  went  on  for  some  time  ;  then  at  last,  waiting  till 
he  stopped  to  wipe  his  instrument  again,  I  coughed. 

"That  you,  Ingeborg?"  he  called  out.  I  thought 
he  must  be  speaking  to  someone  in  the  house  behind 
him,  and  made  no  answer.  "You  there,  I  mean,"  he 
said  again. 

I  was  confused  at  this.     "  Can't  you  see  me  ?  "  I  said. 

He  did  not  answer,  but  fumbled  with  his  hands  to 
either  side,  as  if  trying  to  get  up,  and  I  realised  that  he 
was  blind.  "  Sit  still ;  don't  be  afraid  of  me,"  I  said, 
and  set  myself  down  beside  him. 

We  fell  into  talk :  been  blind  since  he  was  fourteen, 
it  seemed  ;  he  would  be  eighteen  now,  and  a  big,  strong 
fellow  he  was,  with  a  thick  growth  of  down  on  his  chin. 
And,  thank  Heaven,  he  said,  his  health  was  good.  But 
his  eyesight,  I  asked  ;  could  he  remember  what  the 
world  looked  like  ?  Yes,  indeed ;  there  were  many 
pleasant  things  he  could  remember  from  the  time  when 
he  could  see.  He  was  happy  and  content  enough. 
He  was  going  in  to  Christiania  this  spring,  to  have  an 
operation  ;  then  perhaps  he  might  at  least  be  able  to 
see  well  enough  to  walk  ;  ay,  all  would  be  well  in  time, 
no  doubt.  He  was  dull-witted,  looked  as  if  he  ate  a 
lot ;  was  stout  and  strong  as  a  beast.  But  there  was 
something  unhealthy-looking,  something  of  the  idiot 
about  him  ;  his  acceptance  of  his  fate  was  too  unreason- 
able. To  be  hopeful  in  that  way  implies  a  certain 
foolishness,  I  thought  to  myself;  a  man  must  be 
lacking  in  sense  to  some  degree  if  he  can  go  ahead 
feeling  always  content  with  life,  and  even  reckoning 


WANDERERS  1 3  5 

to  get  something  new,  some  good  out  of  it  into  the 
bargain. 

But  I  was  in  the  mood  to  learn  something  from  all  I 
chanced  on  in  my  wandering ;  even  this  poor  creature 
on  his  doorstep  made  me  the  wiser  by  one  little  thing. 
How  was  it  he  could  mistake  me  for  a  woman  ;  the 
woman  Ingeborg  he  had  called  by  name  ?  I  must  have 
walked  up  too  quietly.  I  had  forgotten  the  plodding 
cart-horse  gait ;  my  shoes  were  too  light.  I  had  lived 
too  luxuriously  these  years  past ;  I  must  work  my  way 
back  to  the  peasant  again. 

Three  more  days  now  to  the  goal  my  curious  fancy 
had  set  before  me :  to  0vreb0,  to  Captain  Falkenberg's. 
It  was  an  opportune  time  to  walk  up  there  just  now 
and  ask  for  work  ;  there  would  be  plenty  to  do  on  a  big 
place  like  that  in  the  spring.  Six  years  since  I  was 
there  last ;  time  had  passed,  and  for  the  last  few  weeks 
I  had  been  letting  my  beard  grow,  so  that  none  should 
recognise  me  now. 

It  was  in  the  middle  of  the  week  ;  I  must  arrange  to 
get  there  on  the  Saturday  evening.  Then  the  Captain 
would  let  me  stay  over  the  Sunday  while  he  thought 
about  taking  me  on.  On  Monday  he  would  come  and 
say  yes  or  no. 

Strangely  enough,  I  felt  no  excitement  at  the  thought 
of  what  was  to  come  ;  nothing  of  unrest,  no  ;  calmly 
and  comfortably  I  took  my  way  by  farmstead,  wood, 
and  meadow.  I  thought  to  myself  how  I  had  once, 
years  ago,  spent  some  adventurous  weeks  at  that  same 
0vreb0,  even  to  being  in  love  with  Fruen  herself,  with 
Fru  Lovise.  Ay,  that  I  was.  She  had  fair  hair  and 
grey,  dark  eyes  ;  like  a  young  girl  she  was.  Six  years 
gone,  ay,  so  long  it  is  ago  ;  would  she  be  greatly 
changed  ?  Time  has  had  its  wear  of  me  ;  I  am  grown 
dull  and  faded  and  indifferent ;  I  look  upon  a  woman 


136  WANDERERS 

now  as  literature,  no  more.  It  is  come  to  the  end. 
Well,  and  what  then  ?  Everything  comes  to  an  end. 
When  first  I  entered  on  this  stage  I  had  a  feeling  as  if 
I  had  lost  something  ;  as  if  I  had  been  favoured  by  the 
caresses  of  a  pickpocket.  Then  I  set  to  and  felt  myself 
about,  to  see  if  I  could  bear  myself  after  this  ;  if  I  could 
endure  myself  as  I  was  now.  Oh  well,  yes,  why  not  ? 
Not  the  same  as  before,  of  course,  but  it  all  passed  off 
so  noiselessly,  but  peacefully,  but  surely.  Everything 
comes  to  an  end. 

In  old  age  one  takes  no  real  part  in  life,  but  keeps 
oneself  on  memories.  We  are  like  letters  that  have 
been  delivered  ;  we  are  no  longer  on  the  way,  we  have 
arrived.  It  is  only  a  question  whether  we  have  whirled 
up  joys  and  sorrows  out  of  what  was  in  us,  or  have 
made  no  impression  at  all.  Thanks  be  for  life  ;  it  was 
good  to  live  ! 

But  Woman,  she  was,  as  the  wise  aforetime  knew, 
infinitely  poor  in  mind,  but  rich  in  irresponsibility,  in 
vanity,  in  wantonness.  Like  a  child  in  many  ways,  but 
with  nothing  of  its  innocence. 

I  stand  by  the  guide-post  where  the  road  turns  off  to 
0vreb0.  There  is  no  emotion  in  me.  The  day  lies 
broad  and  bright  over  meadow  and  woods  ;  here  and 
there  is  ploughing  and  harrowing  in  the  fields,  but  all 
moves  slowly,  hardly  seems  to  move  at  all,  for  it  is  full 
noon  and  a  blazing  sun.  I  walk  a  little  way  on  beyond 
the  post,  dragging  out  the  time  before  going  up  to  the 
house.  After  an  hour,  I  go  into  the  woods  and  wander 
about  there  for  a  while ;  there  are  berries  in  flower  and 
a  scent  of  little  green  leaves.  A  crowd  of  thrushes  go 
chasing  a  crow  across  the  sky,  making  a  great  to-do, 
like  a  clattering  confusion  of  faulty  castanets.  I  lie 
down  on  my  back,  with  my  sack  under  my  head,  and 
drop  off  to  sleep. 


WANDERERS  137 

A  little  after  I  wake  again,  and  walk  over  to  the 
nearest  ploughman.  I  want  to  find  out  something 
about  the  Falkenbergs,  if  they  are  still  there  and  all 
well.  The  man  answers  cautiously  ;  he  stands  blinking, 
with  his  little,  crafty  eyes,  and  says:  "All  depends  if 
Captain's  at  home." 

"Is  he  often  away,  then  ?  " 

"Nay,  he'll  be  at  home." 

"  Has  he  got  the  field-work  done  ?  " 

The  man  smiled:  "Nay,  I  doubt  it's  not  finished 
yet." 

"  Are  there  hands  enough  to  the  place  ?  " 

"That's  more  than  I  can  say;  yes,  I  doubt  there's 
hands  enough.  And  the  field-work's  done  ;  leastways, 
the  manure's  all  carted  out." 

The  man  clicks  to  his  horses  and  goes  on  ploughing  ; 
I  walked  on  beside  him.  There  was  not  much  to  be 
got  out  of  him  ;  next  time  the  horses  stopped  for  a 
breathing  space  I  worried  out  of  him  a  few  more  con- 
tradictions as  to  the  family  at  0vreb0.  The  Captain, 
it  seemed,  was  away  on  manoeuvres  all  through  the 
summer,  and  Fruen  was  at  home  alone.  Yes,  they 
had  always  a  heap  of  visitors,  of  course  ;  but  the 
Captain  was  away.  That  is  to  say,  not  because  he 
wanted  to ;  he  liked  best  to  stay  at  home,  by  all 
accounts,  but,  of  course,  he'd  his  duty  as  well.  No, 
they'd  no  children  as  yet ;  didn't  look  as  if  Fruen 
was  like  to  have  any.  What  was  I  talking  about  ? 
They  might  have  children  yet,  of  course  ;  any  amount 
of  them  for  that.  On  again. 

We  plough  on  to  the  next  stop.  I  am  anxious  not 
to  arrive  at  an  awkward  time,  and  ask  the  man,  there- 
fore, if  he  thinks  there  would  be  visitors  or  anything  of 
that  sort  up  at  the  house  to-day.  No,  he  thought  not. 
They'd  parties  and  visitors  now  and  again,  but  .  .  . 
Ay,  and  music  and  playing  and  fine  goings-on  as  often 


138  WANDERERS 

as  could  be,  but  .  .  .  And  well  they  might,  for  that 
matter,  seeing"  they  were  fine  folks,  and  rich  and  well- 
to-do  as  they  were. 

He  was  a  torment,  was  that  ploughman.  I  tried  to 
find  out  something  about  another  Falkenberg,  who 
could  tune  pianos  at  a  pinch.  On  this  the  plough- 
man's information  was  more  definite.  Lars?  Ay,  he 
was  here.  Know  him?  Why,  of  course  he  knew 
Lars  well  enough.  He'd  finished  with  service  at 
0vrebo,  but  the  Captain  had  given  him  a  clearing 
of  land  to  live  on  ;  he  married  Emma,  that  was  maid 
at  the  house,  and  they'd  a  couple  of  children.  Decent, 
hard-working  folk,  with  feed  for  two  cows  already  out 
of  their  clearing. 

Here  the  furrow  ended,  and  the  man  turned  his  team 
about.  I  thanked  him,  and  went  on  my  way. 

When  I  came  up  to  the  house,  I  recognised  all  the 
buildings  ;  they  wanted  painting.  The  flagstaff  I  had 
helped  to  raise  six  years  before,  it  stood  there  still ;  but 
there  was  no  cord  to  it,  and  the  knob  at  the  top  was 
gone. 

Well,  here  I  was,  and  that  was  four  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon  of  the  26th  of  April. 

Old  folk  have  a  memory  for  dates. 


I 

IT  turned  out  otherwise  than  I  had  thought.  Captain 
Falkenberg  came  out,  heard  what  I  had  to  say, 
and  answered  no  on  the  spot.  He  had  all  the 
hands  he  wanted,  and  the  field-work  was  all  but  done. 

Good  !  Might  I  go  over  to  the  men's  room  and  sit 
down  and  rest  a  while  ? 

Certainly. 

No  invitation  to  stay  over  Sunday.  The  Captain 
turned  on  his  heel  and  went  indoors  again.  He  looked 
as  if  he  had  only  just  got  out  of  bed,  for  he  was  wear- 
ing a  night-shirt  tucked  into  his  trousers,  and  had  no 
waistcoat  on  ;  only  a  jacket  flung  on  loosely  and  left 
unbuttoned.  He  was  going  grey  about  the  ears,  and 
his  beard  as  well. 

I  sat  down  in  the  men's  quarters  and  waited  till  the 
farm-hands  came  in  for  their  afternoon  meal.  There 
were  only  two  of  them — the  foreman  and  another.  I 
got  into  talk  with  them,  and  it  appeared  the  Captain 
had  made  a  mistake  in  saying  the  field-work  was  all 
but  done.  Well,  'twas  his  own  affair.  I  made  no 
secret  of  the  fact  that  I  was  looking  for  a  place,  and, 
as  for  being  used  to  the  work,  I  showed  them  the 
fine  recommendation  I  had  got  from  the  Lensmand  at 
Hersaet  years  ago.  When  the  men  went  out  again,  I 
took  my  sack  and  walked  out  with  them,  ready  to  go 
on  my  way.  I  peeped  in  at  the  stables  and  saw  a  sur- 
prising number  of  horses,  looked  at  the  cowshed,  at 

the  fowls,  and  the  pigs.     I  noticed  that  there  was  dung 

139 


140  WANDERERS 

in  the  pit  from  the  year  before  that  had  not  been  carted 
out  yet. 

I  asked  how  that  could  be. 

"  Well,  what  are  we  to  do  ?  "  answered  the  foreman. 
"  I  looked  to  it  from  end  of  winter  up  till  now,  and 
nobody  but  myself  on  the  place.  Now  there's  two  of 
us  at  least,  in  a  sort  of  way,  but  now  there's  all  the 
ploughing-  and  harrowing  to  be  done." 

'Twas  his  affair. 

I  bade  him  farewell,  and  went  on  my  way.  I  was 
going  to  my  good  friend,  Lars  Falkenberg,  but  I  did 
not  tell  them  so.  There  are  some  new  little  buildings 
far  up  in  the  wood  I  can  see,  and  that  I  take  to  be  the 
clearing. 

But  the  man  I  had  just  left  must  have  been  inwardly 
stirred  by  the  thought  of  getting  an  extra  hand  to  help 
with  the  work.  I  saw  him  tramp  across  the  courtyard 
and  up  to  the  house  as  I  went  off. 

I  had  gone  but  a  couple  of  hundred  yards  when  he 
comes  hurrying  after  me  to  say  I  am  taken  on  after  all. 
He  had  spoken  to  the  Captain,  and  got  leave  to  take 
me  on  himself.  "There'll  be  nothing  to  do  now  till 
Monday,  but  come  in  and  have  something  to  eat." 

He  is  a  good  fellow,  this  ;  goes  with  me  up  to  the 
kitchen  and  tells  them  there  :  "  Here's  a  new  man  come 
to  work  on  the  place  ;  see  he  gets  something  to  eat." 

A  strange  cook  and  strange  maids.  I  get  my  food 
and  go  out  again.  No  sign  of  master  or  mistress 
anywhere. 

But  I  cannot  sit  idle  in  the  men's  room  all  the 
evening  ;  I  walk  up  to  the  field  and  talk  to  my  two 
fellow-workers.  Nils,  the  foreman,  is  from  a  farm  a 
little  north  of  here,  but,  not  being  the  eldest  son,  and 
having  no  farm  of  his  own  to  run,  he  has  been  sensible 
enough  to  take  service  here  at  0vreb0  for  the  time 
being.  And,  indeed,  he  might  have  done  worse.  The 


WANDERERS  141 

Captain  himself  was  not  paying  more  and  more  atten- 
tion to  his  land,  rather,  perhaps,  less  and  less,  and  he 
was  away  so  much  that  the  man  had  to  use  his  own 
judgment  many  a  time.  This  last  autumn,  for  instance, 
he  has  turned  up  a  big  stretch  of  waste  land  that  he  is 
going  to  sow.  He  points  out  over  the  ground,  showing 
where  he's  ploughed  and  what's  to  lie  over  :  "  See  that 
bit  there,  how  well  it's  coming  on." 

It  is  good  to  hear  how  well  this  young  man  knows 
his  work  ;  I  find  a  pleasure  in  his  sensible  talk.  He 
has  been  to  one  of  the  State  schools,  too,  and  learned 
how  to  keep  accounts  of  stock,  entering  loads  of  hay  in 
one  column  and  the  birth  dates  of  the  calves  in  another. 
His  affair.  In  the  old  days  a  peasant  kept  such  matters 
in  his  head,  and  the  womenfolk  knew  to  a  day  when 
each  of  their  twenty  or  fifty  cows  was  due  to  calve. 

But  he  is  a  smart  young  fellow,  nevertheless,  and  not 
afraid  of  work,  only  a  little  soured  and  spoiled  of  late 
by  having  more  on  his  hands  than  a  man  could  do.  It 
was  plain  to  see  how  he  brightened  up  now  he  had  got 
a  man  to  help  with  the  work.  And  he  settles  there  and 
then  that  I  am  to  start  on  Monday  with  the  harrow 
horse,  carting  out  manure,  the  lad  to  take  one  of  the 
Captain's  carriage  horses  for  the  harrow  ;  he  himself 
would  stick  to  the  ploughing.  Ay,  we  would  get  our 
sowing  done  this  year. 

Sunday. 

I  must  be  careful  not  to  show  any  former  knowledge 
of  things  about  the  place  here  ;  as,  for  instance,  how 
far  the  Captain's  timber  runs,  or  where  the  various  out- 
houses and  buildings  are,  or  the  well,  or  the  roads. 
I  took  some  time  getting  things  ready  for  to-morrow — 
greased  the  wheels  of  the  cart,  and  did  up  the  harness, 
and  gave  the  horse  an  extra  turn.  In  the  afternoon  I 
went  for  a  four  or  five  hours'  ramble  through  the  woods, 


142  WANDERERS 

passed  by  Lars  Falkenberg's  place  without  going  in, 
and  came  right  out  to  where  the  Captain's  land  joined 
that  of  the  neighbouring  village  before  I  turned  back. 
I  was  surprised  to  see  the  mass  of  timber  that  had  been 
cut. 

When  I  got  back,  Nils  asked  :  "  Did  you  hear  them 
singing  and  carrying  on  last  night  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  what  was  it?  " 

"  Visitors,"  said  he,  with  a  laugh. 

Visitors  !  yes,  there  were  always  visitors  at  Ovrebo 
just  now. 

There  was  an  extremely  fat  but  sprightly  man  among 
them  ;  he  wore  his  moustache  turned  up  at  the  ends, 
and  was  a  captain  in  the  same  arm  of  the  service  as 
the  master.  I  saw  him  and  the  other  guests  come 
lounging  out  of  the  house  in  the  course  of  the  evening. 
There  was  a  man  they  called  Ingenior; l  he  was  young, 
a  little  over  twenty,  fairly  tall,  brown-skinned  and 
clean  shaven.  And  there  was  Elisabeth  from  the  vicar- 
age. I  remember  Elisabeth  very  well,  and  recognised 
her  now  at  once,  for  all  she  was  six  years  older  and 
more  mature.  Little  Elisabeth  of  the  old  days  was  no 
longer  a  girl — her  breast  stood  out  so,  and  gave  an 
impression  of  exaggerated  health.  I  learned  she  was 
married  ;  she  took  Erik  after  all,  a  farmer's  son  she 
had  been  fond  of  as  a  child.  She  was  still  friendly  with 
Fru  Falkenberg,  and  often  came  to  stay.  But  her 
husband  never  came  with  her. 

Elisabeth  is  standing  by  the  flagstaff,  and  Captain 
Falkenberg  comes  out.  They  talk  a  little,  and  are 
occupied  with  their  own  affairs.  The  Captain  glances 
round  every  time  he  speaks  ;  possibly  he  is  not  talking 
of  trifles,  but  of  something  he  must  needs  be  careful 
with. 

1  Engineer.  Men  are  frequently  addressed  and  referred  to  by 
the  title  of  their  occupation,  with  or  without  adding  the  name. 


WANDERERS  143 

Then  comes  the  other  Captain,  the  fat  and  jovial 
one  ;  we  can  hear  his  laugh  right  over  in  the  servants' 
quarters.  He  calls  out  to  Captain  Falkenberg  to  come 
along,  but  gets  only  a  curt  answer  back.  A  few  stone 
steps  lead  down  to  the  lilac  shrubbery  ;  the  Captain 
goes  down  there  now,  a  maid  following  after  with  wine 
and  glasses.  Last  of  all  comes  the  engineer. 

Nils  bursts  out  laughing  :  "  Oh,  that  Captain  !  look 
at  him !  " 

"  What's  his  name?  " 

"  They  all  call  him  Bror  ; l  it  was  the  same  last  year 
as  well.     I  don't  know  his  proper  name." 
"  And  the  engineer  ?  " 

"  His  name's  Lassen,  so  I've  heard.  He's  only  been 
here  once  before  in  my  time." 

Then  came  Fru  Falkenberg  out  on  the  steps  ;  she 
stopped  for  a  moment  and  glanced  over  at  the  two  by 
the  flagstaff.  Her  figure  is  slight  and  pretty  as  ever  ; 
but  her  face  seems  looser,  as  if  she  had  been  stouter 
once  and  since  grown  thin.  She  goes  down  to  the 
shrubbery  after  the  others,  and  I  recognise  her  walk 
again — light  and  firm  as  of  old.  But  little  wonder  if 
time  has  taken  something  of  her  looks  in  all  those  years. 
More  people  come  out  from  the  house — an  elderly 
lady  wearing  a  shawl,  and  two  gentlemen  with  her. 

Nils  tells  me  it  is  not  always  there  are  so  many 
guests  in  the  house  at  once  ;  but  it  was  the  Captain's 
birthday  two  days  ago,  and  two  carriage-loads  of  people 
had  come  dashing  up  ;  the  four  strange  horses  were  in 
the  stables  now. 

Now  voices  are  calling  again  for  the  couple  by  the 
flagstaff;  the  Captain  throws  out  an  impatient  "  Yes  !  " 
but  does  not  move.  Now  he  brushes  a  speck  of  dust 
from  Elisabeth's  shoulder;  now,  looking  round  carefully, 

1  Brother.  Not  so  much  a  nickname  as  a  general  term  of 
jovial  familiarity. 


144  WANDERERS 

he  lays  one  hand  on  her  arm  and  tells  her  something 
earnestly. 

Says  Nils  : 

"  They've  always  such  a  lot  to  talk  about,  those  two. 
She  never  comes  here  but  they  go  off  for  long  walks 
together." 

"  And  what  does  Fru  Falkenberg  say  to  that?  " 

"  I've  never  heard  she  troubled  about  it  any  way." 

"And  Elisabeth,  hasn't  she  any  children  either?  " 

"  Ay,  she's  many." 

"  But  how  can  she  get  away  so  often  with  that  big 
place  and  the  children  to  look  after?  " 

"  It's  all  right  as  long  as  Erik's  mother's  alive.  She 
can  get  away  all  she  wants." 

He  went  out  as  he  spoke,  leaving  me  alone.  In  this 
room  I  had  sat  once,  working  out  the  construction  of 
an  improved  timber  saw.  How  earnest  I  was  about  it 
all  !  Fetter,  the  farm-hand,  lay  sick  in  the  room  next 
door,  and  I  would  hurry  out  eagerly  whenever  I'd  any 
hammering  to  do,  and  get  it  done  outside.  Now  that 
patent  saw's  just  literature  to  me,  no  more.  So  the 
years  deal  with  us  all. 

Nils  comes  in  again. 

"  If  the  visitors  aren't  gone  to-morrow,  I'll  take  a 
couple  of  their  horses  for  the  ploughing,"  says  he, 
thinking  only  of  his  own  affairs. 

I  glance  out  of  the  window  ;  the  couple  by  the  flag- 
staff have  moved  away  at  last. 

In  the  evening  things  grew  more  and  more  lively 
down  in  the  shrubbery.  The  maids  went  backwards 
and  forwards  with  trays  of  food  and  drink  ;  the  party 
were  having  supper  among  the  lilacs.  "Bror!  Bror  !  " 
cried  one  and  another,  but  Bror  himself  was  loudest  of 
all.  A  chair  had  broken  under  his  enormous  weight, 
and  a  message  comes  out  to  the  servants'  quarters  to 


WANDERERS  145 

find  a  good,  solid,  wooden  chair  that  would  bear  him. 
Oh,  but  they  were  merry  down  in  the  shrubbery  !  Cap- 
tain Falkenberg  walked  up  now  and  again  in  front  of 
the  house  to  show  he  was  still  steady  on  his  legs,  and 
was  keeping  a  watchful  eye  on  things  in  general. 

"You  mark  my  words,"  said  Nils,  "  he'll  not  be  the 
first  to  give  over.  I  drove  for  him  last  year,  and  he  was 
drinking  all  the  way,  but  never  a  sign  was  there  to  see." 

The  sun  went  down.  It  was  growing  chilly,  perhaps, 
in  the  garden  ;  anyway,  the  party  went  indoors.  But 
the  big  windows  were  thrown  wide,  and  waves  of 
melody  from  Fru  Falkenberg's  piano  poured  out.  After 
a  while  it  changed  to  dance  tunes  ;  jovial  Captain  Bror, 
no  doubt,  was  playing  now. 

"  Nice  lot,  aren't  they  ?  "  said  Nils.  "  Sit  up  playing 
and  dancing'  all  night,  and  stay  in  bed  all  day.  I'm 
going  to  turn  in." 

I  stayed  behind,  looking  out  of  the  window,  and  saw 
my  mate  Lars  Falkenberg  come  walking  across  the 
courtyard  and  go  up  into  the  house.  He  had  been  sent 
for  to  sing  to  the  company.  When  he  has  sung  for  a 
while,  Captain  Bror  and  some  of  the  others  begin  to 
chime  in  and  help,  making  a  fine  merry  noise  between 
them.  After  about  an  hour  in  comes  Lars  Falkenberg 
to  the  servants'  quarters,  with  a  half-bottle  of  spirit  in 
his  pocket  for  his  trouble.  Seeing  no  one  but  me,  a 
stranger,  in  the  room,  he  goes  in  to  Nils  in  the  bedroom 
next  door,  and  they  take  a  dram  together  ;  after  a  little 
they  call  to  me  to  come  in.  I  am  careful  not  to  say  too 
much,  hoping  not  to  be  recognised  ;  but  when  Lars 
gets  up  to  go  home,  he  asks  me  to  go  part  of  the  way 
with  him.  And  then  it  appears  that  I  am  discovered 
already ;  Lars  knows  that  I  am  his  former  mate  of  the 
woodcutting  days. 

The  Captain  had  told  him. 

Well  and  good,  I  think  to  myself.  Then  I've  no 
10 


146  WANDERERS 

need  to  bother  about  being-  careful  any  more.  To  tell 
the  truth,  I  was  well  pleased  at  the  way  things  had 
turned  out ;  it  meant  that  the  Captain  was  completely 
indifferent  as  to  having  me  about  the  place  ;  I  could  do 
as  I  pleased. 

I  walked  all  the  way  home  with  Lars,  talking  over 
old  times,  and  of  his  new  place,  and  of  the  people  at 
0vreb0.  It  seemed  that  the  Captain  was  not  looked 
up  to  with  the  same  respect  as  before  ;  he  was  no  longer 
the  spokesman  of  the  district,  and  neighbours  had 
ceased  to  come  and  ask  his  help  and  advice.  The  last 
thing  of  any  account  he  did  was  to  have  the  carriage 
drive  altered  down  to  the  high  road,  but  that  was  five 
years  ago.  The  buildings  needed  painting,  but  he  had 
put  it  off  and  never  had  it  done  ;  the  road  across  the 
estate  was  in  disrepair,  and  he  had  felled  too  much 
timber  by  far.  Drink?  Oh,  so  folk  said,  no  doubt, 
but  it  couldn't  be  fairly  said  he  drank — not  that  way. 
Devil  take  the  gossiping  fools  !  He  drank  a  little,  and 
now  and  again  he  would  drive  off  somewhere  and  stay 
away  for  a  bit ;  but  when  he  did  come  home  again 
things  never  seemed  to  go  well  with  him,  and  that  was 
the  pity  of  it  !  An  evil  spirit  seemed  to  have  got  hold 
of  him,  said  Lars. 

And  Fruen? 

Fruen !  She  went  about  the  house  as  before,  and 
played  on  her  piano,  and  was  as  pretty  and  neat  as  ever 
anyone  could  wish.  And  they  keep  open  house,  with 
folk  for  ever  coming  and  going  ;  but  taxes  and  charges 
on  this  and  that  mount  up,  and  it  costs  a  deal  to  keep 
up  the  place,  with  all  the  big  buildings  to  be  seen  to. 
But  it  is  a  sin  and  a  shame  for  the  Captain,  and  Fruen 
as  well,  to  be  so  dead-weary  of  each  other,  you'd  never 
think.  If  they  do  say  a  word  to  each  other,  it's  looking 
to  the  other  side  all  the  time,  and  hardly  opening  their 
lips.  They  barely  speak  at  all,  except  to  other  people, 


WANDERERS  147 

month  after  month  the  same.  And  all  summer  the 
Captain's  out  on  manoauvres,  and  never  comes  home  to 
see  how  his  wife  and  the  place  are  getting  on.  "  No, 
they've  no  children  ;  that's  the  trouble,"  says  Lars. 

Emma  comes  out  and  joins  us.  She  looks  well  and 
handsome  still,  and  I  tell  her  so. 

"  Emma  ?  "  says  Lars.  "  Ay,  well,  she's  none  so  bad. 
But  she's  for  ever  having  children,  the  wretch  !  "  and, 
pouring  out  a  drink  from  his  half-bottle,  he  forces 
her  to  drink  it  off.  Now  Emma  presses  us  to  come 
in  ;  we  might  just  as  well  be  sitting  down  indoors 
as  standing  about  out  here.  "  Oh,  it's  summer  now  !  " 
says  Lars,  evidently  none  so  anxious  to  have  me  in. 
Then,  when  I  set  off  for  home,  he  walks  down  again 
with  me  a  bit  of  the  way,  showing  me  where  he's  dug 
and  drained  and  fenced  about  his  bit  of  land.  Small 
as  it  is,  he  has  made  good  and  sensible  use  of  it. 
I  find  a  strange  sense  of  pleasure  coming  over  me 
as  I  look  at  this  cosy  homestead  in  the  woods.  There 
is  a  faint  soughing  of  the  wind  in  the  forest  behind  ; 
close  up  to  the  house  are  foliage  trees,  and  the 
aspens  rustle  like  silk. 

I  walk  back  home.  Night  is  deepening  ;  all  the  birds 
are  silent ;  the  air  calm  and  warm,  in  a  soft  bluish  gloom. 

"  Let  us  be  young  to-night!  "  It  is  a  man's  voice, 
loud  and  bright,  from  behind  the  lilacs.  "Let's  go 
and  dance,  or  do  something  wild." 

"  Have  you  forgotten  what  you  were  like  last  year?  " 
answers  Fru  Falkenberg.  "You  were  nice  and  young 
then,  and  never  said  such  things." 

"  No,  I  never  said  such  things.  To  think  you  should 
remember  that  !  But  you  scolded  me  one  evening  last 
year  too.  I  said  how  beautiful  you  were  that  evening, 
and  you  said  no,  you  weren't  beautiful  any  more  ;  and  you 
called  me  a  child,  and  told  me  not  to  drink  so  much." 


148  WANDERERS 

"  Yes,  so  I  did,"  says  Fru  Falkenberg,  with  a  laugh. 

"So  you  did,  yes.  But  as  to  your  being  beautiful 
or  not,  surely  I  ought  to  know  when  I  was  sitting 
looking  at  you  all  the  time  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  child!  " 

"And  this  evening  you're  lovelier  still." 

"  There's  someone  coming  !  " 

Two  figures  rise  up  suddenly  behind  the  lilacs. 
Fruen  and  the  young  engineer.  Seeing  it  is  only 
me,  they  breathe  more  easily  again,  and  go  on  talking 
as  if  I  did  not  exist.  And  mark  how  strange  is  human 
feeling  ;  I  had  been  wishing  all  along  to  be  ignored 
and  left  in  peace,  yet  now  it  hurt  me  to  see  these 
two  making  so  little  account  of  me.  My  hair  and 
beard  are  turning  grey,  I  thought  to  myself ;  should 
they  not  respect  me  at  least  for  that  ? 

"  Yes,  you're  lovelier  still  to-night,"  says  the  man  again. 

I  come  up  alongside  them,  touching  my  cap  care- 
lessly, and  pass  on. 

"I'll  tell  you  this  much:  you'll  gain  nothing  by 
it,"  says  Fruen.  And  then:  "Here,  you've  dropped 
something,"  she  calls  to  me. 

Dropped  something?  My  handkerchief  lay  on  the 
path  ;  I  had  dropped  it  on  purpose.  I  turned  round 
now  and  picked  it  up,  said  thank  you,  and  walked  on. 

"  You're  very  quick  to  notice  things  of  no  account," 
says  the  engineer.  "  A  lout's  red-spotted  rag.  .  .  . 
Come,  let's  go  and  sit  in  the  summer-house." 

"  It's  shut  up  at  night,"  says  Fruen.  "  I  dare  say 
there's  somebody  in  there." 

After  that  I  heard  no  more. 

My  bedroom  is  up  in  the  loft  in  the  servants'  quarters, 
and  the  one  open  window  looks  out  to  the  shrubbery. 
When  I  come  up  I  can  still  hear  voices  down  there 
among  the  bushes,  but  cannot  make  out  what  is  said. 
I  thought  to  myself:  why  should  the  summer-house  be 


WANDERERS 


shut  up  at  night,  and  whose  idea  could  It  be  ? 

t'  *  * 


149 


had  jr 

with  the  shawl.         hey  had  h  *      "*  °W  'ady 

among  the  trees  no  doL      ..      ,"   S'""'g'  somewhere 
to  wondering  no'w°fbv  a'  Wr     ""*"  by'  and  '  fel1 
talking  to  nfyse^fa    i  Jalked  a^H      C°U'd  haVe  been 
Suddenly  I  s~  thV  '          been  overheard. 

bushe,  anV^Vtrnf;^/;:  ^  fr°m  behi"d  the 
Finding  it  locked    h«       .     f  e  summer-house. 

b  ti 


Whatever  are  you  doing? 


:    "Madman! 


a  man  just  no  oka  "tt-g  there 

warning-  them  ;  here  i<=  ,        SOme  means  of 

window  and  fling  it's  hard  2T  b°ttle  J  '  ^°  to  th« 
summer-house.  There  is  t  ^  "^  '°Wards  th= 
"••oken,  and  the  pieces  eo  J'n  '  "^  a"d  tiles  are 
«»f;  a  cry  of  di™  r  ?  clattering  down  over  the 

berg'rushes  out,  her^moa™  tl'"'  a"d  Fr"  Falk  «- 
her  dress.  They  stonlbrT  "  "d  her  Sti"  ^asPi-* 
"  Bror  !  Bror  Irenes  Fru  ST''^  '°°k  ab°Ut  them 

Falkenberg.andsetsoffata 


ISO  WANDERERS 

run  down  the  shrubbery.  "  No,  don't  come,"  she  calls 
back  over  her  shoulder.  "  You  mustn't,  I  tell  you." 

But  the  engineer  ran  after  her,  all  the  same.  Wonder- 
fully young1  he  was,  and  all  inflexible. 

Now  the  stout  Captain  and  his  lady  come  up,  and 
their  talk  is  a  marvel  to  hear.  Love :  there  is  nothing 
like  it,  so  it  seems.  The  stout  cavalier  must  be  sixty 
at  the  least,  and  the  lady  with  him,  say  forty  ;  their 
infatuation  was  a  sight  to  see. 

The  Captain  speaks  : 

"  And  up  to  this  evening  I've  managed  to  hide  it 
somehow,  but  now — well,  it's  more  than  any  man  can. 
You've  bewitched  me,  Frue,  completely." 

"  I  didn't  think  you  cared  so  much,  really,"  she 
answers  gently,  trying  to  help  him  along. 

"Well,  I  do,"  he  says.  "And  I  can't  stand  it  any 
longer,  and  that's  the  truth.  When  we  were  up  in  the 
woods  just  now,  I  still  thought  I  could  get  through  one 
more  night,  and  didn't  say  anything  much  at  the  time. 
But  now  ;  come  back  with  me,  say  you  will ! " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  No  ;  oh,  I'd  love  to  give  you  ...  do  what  you  ..." 

"Ah!"  he  exclaims,  and,  throwing  his  arms  about 
her,  stands  pressing  his  round  paunch  against  hers. 
There  they  stood,  looking  like  two  recalcitrants  that 
would  not.  Oh,  that  Captain  ! 

"  Let  me  go,"  she  implored  him. 

He  loosened  his  hold  a  trifle  and  pressed  her  to  him 
again.  Once  more  it  looked  as  if  both  were  resisting. 

"Come  back  up  into  the  wood,"  he  urged  again 
and  again. 

"Oh,  it's  impossible!"  she  answered.  "And  then 
it's  all  wet  with  the  dew." 

But  the  Captain  was  full  of  passionate  words — full 
and  frothing  over. 

"  Oh,  I  used  to  think  I  didn't  care  much  about  eyes  ! 


WANDERERS  1 5  I 

Blue  eyes — huh  !  Grey  eyes — huh  !  Eyes  any  sort  of 
colour — huh  !  But  then  you  came  with  those  brown 
eyes  of  yours.  .  .  ." 

"They  are  brown,  yes.  .  .  ." 

"You  burn  me  with  them  ;  you — you  roast  me  up !  " 

"To  tell  the  truth,  you're  not  the  first  that's  said 
nice  things  about  my  eyes.  My  husband  now  .  .  ." 

"Ah,  but  what  about  me!"  cries  the  Captain.  "I 
tell  you,  Frue,  if  I'd  only  met  you  twenty  years  ago,  I 
wouldn't  have  answered  for  my  reason.  Come  ;  there's 
no  dew  to  speak  of  up  in  the  wood." 

"  We'd  better  go  indoors,  I  think,"  she  suggests. 

"Go  in?  There's  not  a  corner  anywhere  indoors 
where  we  can  be  alone." 

"  Oh,  we'll  find  somewhere  !"  she  says. 

"  Well,  anyhow,  we  must  have  an  end  of  it  to-night," 
says  the  Captain  decisively. 

And  they  go. 

I  asked  myself:  was  it  to  warn  anybody  I  had  thrown 
that  empty  bottle  ? 

At  three  in  the  morning  I  heard  Nils  go  out  to  feed 
the  horses.  At  four  he  knocked  to  rouse  me  out  of 
bed.  I  did  not  grudge  him  the  honour  of  being  first  up, 
though  I  could  have  called  him  earlier  myself,  any  hour 
of  that  night  indeed,  for  I  had  not  slept.  'Tis  easy 
enough  to  go  without  sleep  a  night  or  two  in  this  light, 
fine  air  ;  it  does  not  make  for  drowsiness. 

Nils  sets  out  for  the  fields,  driving  a  new  team. 
He  has  looked  over  the  visitors'  horses,  and  chosen 
Elizabeth's.  Good  country-breds,  heavy  in  the  leg. 


II 

More  visitors   arrive,  and  the  house-party  goes  on. 
We    farm    hands    are    busy    ploughing,    sowing,    and 


152  WANDERERS 

carting  manure  ;  some  of  the  fields  are  sprouting  green 
already  after  our  work — a  joy  to  see. 

But  we've  difficulties  here  and  there,  and  that  with 
Captain  Falkenberg  himself.  "He's  lost  all  thought 
and  care  for  his  own  good,"  says  Nils.  And  indeed  an 
evil  spirit  must  have  got  hold  of  him  ;  he  was  half- 
drunk  most  of  the  time,  and  seemed  to  think  of  little 
else  beyond  playing  the  genial  host.  For  nearly  a 
week  past,  he  and  his  guests  had  played  upside  down 
with  day  and  night.  But  what  with  the  noise  and 
rioting  after  dark  the  beasts  in  stable  and  shed  could 
get  no  rest  ;  the  maids,  too,  were  kept  up  at  all  hours, 
and,  what  was  more,  the  young  gentlemen  would  come 
over  to  their  quarters  at  night  and  sit  on  their  beds 
talking,  just  to  see  them  undressed. 

We  working  hands  had  no  part  in  this,  of  course,  but 
many  a  time  we  felt  shamed  instead  of  proud  to  work  on 
Captain  Falkenberg's  estate.  Nils  got  hold  of  a  temper- 
ance badge  and  wore  it  in  the  front  of  his  blouse. 

One  day  the  Captain  came  out  to  me  in  the  fields  and 
ordered  me  to  get  out  the  carriage  and  fetch  two  new 
visitors  from  the  station.  It  was  in  the  middle  of  the 
afternoon  ;  apparently  he  had  just  got  up.  But  he  put 
me  in  an  awkward  position  here — why  had  he  not  gone 
to  Nils?  It  struck  me  that  he  was  perhaps,  after  all,  a 
little  shy  of  Nils  with  his  temperance  badge. 

The  Captain  must  have  guessed  my  difficulty,  for  he 
smiled  and  said  : 

"Thinking  what  Nils  might  say?  Well,  perhaps  I'd 
better  talk  to  him  first." 

But  I  wouldn't  for  worlds  have  sent  the  Captain  over 
to  Nils  just  then,  for  Nils  was  still  ploughing  with 
visitors'  horses,  and  had  asked  me  to  give  him  warning 
if  I  saw  danger  ahead.  I  took  out  my  handkerchief  to 
wipe  my  face,  and  waved  a  little  ;  Nils  saw  it,  and 
slipped  his  team  at  once.  What  would  he  do  nowr  I 


WANDERERS  153 

wondered  ?  But  Nils  was  not  easily  dismayed ;  he  came 
straight  in  with  his  horses,  though  it  was  in  the  middle 
of  a  working  spell. 

If  only  I  could  hold  the  Captain  here  a  bit  while  he 
got  in  !  Nils  realises  there  is  no  time  to  be  lost — he  is 
already  unfastening  the  harness  on  the  way. 

Suddenly  the  Captain  looks  at  me,  and  asks : 

"  Well,  have  you  lost  your  tongue?  " 

"  'Twas  Nils,"  I  answer  then.  "Something  gone 
wrong,  it  looks  like  ;  he's  taken  the  horses  out." 

"Well,  and  what  then  ?" 

"Nay,  I  was  only  thinking  .   .   ." 

But  there  I  stopped.  Devil  take  it,  was  I  to  stand 
there  playing  the  hypocrite  ?  Here  was  my  chance  to 
put  in  a  word  for  Nils  ;  the  next  round  he  would  have 
to  manage  alone. 

"It's  the  spring  season  now,"  I  said,  "and  there's 
green  showing  already  where  we've  done.  But  there's 
a  deal  more  to  do  yet,  and  we  .  .  ." 

"  Well,  and  what  then— what  then  ?  " 

"There's  two  and  a  half  acres  here,  and  Nils  with 
hard  on  three  acres  of  corn  land ;  perhaps  Captain 
might  give  it  another  thought." 

At  that  the  Captain  swung  on  his  heel  and  left  me 
without  a  word. 

"That's  my  dismissal,"  I  thought  to  myself.  But  I 
walked  up  after  him  with  my  cart  and  team,  ready  to 
do  as  he  had  said. 

I  was  in  no  fear  now  about  Nils  ;  he  was  close  up  to 
the  stables  by  now.  The  Captain  beckoned  to  him, 
but  without  avail.  Then  "Halt!"  he  cried,  military 
fashion  ;  but  Nils  was  deaf. 

When  we  reached  the  stables  the  horses  were  back 
in  their  places  already.  The  Captain  was  stiff  and 
stern  as  ever,  but  I  fancied  he  had  been  thinking 
matters  over  a  Httle  on  the  way. 


154  WANDERERS 

"What  have  you  brought  the  horses  infer  now?" 
he  asked. 

"Plough  was  working  loose,"  answered  Nils.  "I 
brought  them  in  just  while  I'm  setting  it  to  rights 
again;  it  won't  take  very  long." 

The  Captain  raps  out  his  order : 

"  I  want  a  man  to  drive  to  the  station." 

Nils  glances  at  me,  and  says  half  to  himself: 

"  H'm !  So  that's  it?  A  nice  time  for  that  sort  of 
thing." 

"  What's  that  you're  muttering  about  ?  " 

" There's  two  of  us  and  a  lad,"  says  Nils,  "for  the 
season's  work  this  spring.  'Tis  none  so  much  as  leaves 
any  to  spare." 

But  the  Captain  must  have  had  some  inkling  as  to 
the  two  brown  horses  Nils  had  been  in  such  a  hurry  to 
get  in  ;  he  goes  round  patting  the  animals  in  turn, 
to  see  which  of  them  are  warm.  Then  he  comes  back 
to  us,  wiping  his  fingers  with  his  handkerchief. 

"Do  you  go  ploughing  with  other  people's  horses, 
Nils?" 

Pause. 

"  I'll  not  have  it  here  ;  you  understand  ?  " 

"  H'm  !  No,"  says  Nils  submissively.  Then  suddenly 
he  flares  up:  "  We've  more  need  of  horses  this  spring 
than  any  season  ever  at  0vreb0  :  we're  taking  up  more 
ground  than  ever  before.  And  here  were  these  strange 
cattle  standing  here  day  after  day  eating  and  eating, 
and  doing  never  so  much  as  the  worth  of  the  water 
they  drank.  So  I  took  them  out  for  a  bit  of  a  spell  now 
and  then,  just  enough  to  keep  them  in  trim." 

"I'll  have  no  more  of  it.     You  hear  what  I  say?" 
repeated  the  Captain  shortly. 
Pause. 

"  Didn't  you  say  one  of  the  Captain's  plough  horses 
was  ailing  yesterday  ?  "  I  put  in. 


WANDERERS  155 

Nils  was  quick  to  seize  his  chance. 

"Ay.  So  it  was.  Standing  all  a-tremble  in  its  box. 
I  couldn't  have  taken  it  out  anyway." 

The  Captain  looked  me  coldly  up  and  down. 

"  What  are  you  standing-  here  for  ?  "  he  asked  sharply. 

"  Captain  said  I  was  to  drive  to  the  station." 

"  Well,  then,  be  off  and  get  ready." 

But  Nils  took  him  up  on  the  instant. 

"That  can't  be  done." 

Bravo,  Nils  !  said  I  to  myself.  The  lad  was  thoroughly 
in  the  right,  and  he  looked  it,  sturdily  holding  his  own. 
And  as  for  the  horses,  our  own  had  been  sorely  over- 
done with  the  long  season's  work,  and  the  strange 
cattle  stood  there  eating  their  heads  off  and  spoiling 
for  want  of  exercise. 

"Can't  be  done?"  said  the  Captain,  astounded. 
"What  do  you  mean?" 

"  If  Captain  takes  away  the  help  I've  got,  then  I've 
finished  here,  that's  all,"  says  Nils. 

The  Captain  walked  to  the  stable  door  and  looked 
out,  biting  his  moustache  and  thinking  hard.  Then 
he  asked  over  his  shoulder  : 

"  And  you  can't  spare  the  lad,  either?  " 

"  No,"  said  Nils  ;  "  he's  the  harrowing  to  do." 

This  was  our  first  real  encounter  with  the  Captain, 
and  we  had  our  way.  There  were  some  little  troubles 
again  later  on,  but  he  soon  gave  in. 

"I  want  a  case  fetched  from  the  station,"  he  said 
one  day.  "  Can  the  boy  go  in  for  it?  " 

"The  boy's  as  ill  to  spare  as  a  man  for  us  now,"  said 
Nils.  "  If  he's  to  drive  in  to  the  station  now,  he  won't 
be  back  till  late  to-morrow  ;  that's  a  day  and  a  half  lost." 

Bravo !  I  said  to  myself  again.  Nils  had  spoken  to 
me  before  about  that  case  at  the  station  ;  it  was  a  new 
consignment  of  liquor  ;  the  maids  had  heard  about  it. 

There  was  some  more  talk  this  way  and  that.     The 


156  WANDERERS 

Captain  frowned  ;  he  had  never  known  a  busy  season 
last  so  long1  before.  Nils  lost  his  temper,  and  said  at 
last:  "If  you  take  the  boy  off  his  field-work,  then  I 
go."  And  then  he  did  as  he  and  I  had  agreed  before- 
hand, and  asked  me  straight  out :  "  Will  you  go,  too  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  I. 

At  that  the  Captain  gave  way,  and  said  with  a  smile : 
"  Conspiracy,  I  see.  But  I  don't  mind  saying  you're 
right  in  a  way.  And  you're  good  fellows  to  work." 

But  the  Captain  saw  but  little  of  our  work,  and  little 
pleasure  it  gave  him.  He  looked  out  now  and  again, 
no  doubt,  over  his  fields,  and  saw  how  much  was 
ploughed  and  sown,  but  that  was  all.  But  we  farm 
hands  worked  our  hardest,  and  all  for  the  good  of  our 
masters  ;  that  was  our  way. 

Ay,  that  was  our  way,  no  doubt. 

But  maybe  now  and  again  we  might  have  just  a 
thought  of  question  as  to  that  zeal  of  ours,  whether  it 
was  so  noble  after  all.  Nils  was  a  man  from  the 
village  who  was  anxious  to  get  his  field-work  done  at 
least  as  quickly  as  any  of  his  neighbours  ;  his  honour 
was  at  stake.  And  I  followed  him.  Ay,  even  when  he 
put  on  that  temperance  badge,  it  was,  perhaps,  as  much 
as  anything  to  get  the  Captain  sober  enough  to  see  the 
fine  work  we  had  done.  And  here  again  I  was  with 
him.  Moreover,  I  had  perhaps  a  hope  that  Fruen, 
that  Fru  Falkenberg  at  least,  might  understand  what 
good  souls  we  were.  I  doubt  I  was  no  better  than  to 
reckon  so. 

The  first  time  I  saw  Fru  Falkenberg  close  to  was 
one  afternoon  as  I  was  going  out  of  the  kitchen.  She 
came  walking  across  the  courtyard,  a  slender,  bare- 
headed figure.  I  raised  my  cap  and  looked  at  her  ;  her 
face  was  strangely  young  and  innocent  to  see.  And 
with  perfect  indifference  she  answered  my  "  Goddag" 
and  passed  on. 


WANDERERS  157 

It  could  not  be  all  over  for  good  between  the  Captain 
and  his  wife.  I  based  this  view  upon  the  following 
grounds : 

Ragnhild,  the  parlour-maid,  was  her  mistress's  friend 
and  trusted  spy.  She  noted  things  on  Fruen's  behalf, 
went  last  to  bed,  listened  on  the  stairs,  made  a  few 
swift,  noiseless  steps  when  she  was  outside  and  some- 
body called.  She  was  a  handsome  girl,  with  very 
bright  eyes,  and  fine  and  warm-blooded  into  the  bargain. 
One  evening  I  came  on  her  just  by  the  summer-house, 
where  she  stood  sniffing  at  the  lilacs  ;  she  started  as  I 
came  up,  pointed  warningly  towards  the  summer-house, 
and  ran  off  with  her  tongue  between  her  teeth. 

The  Captain  was  aware  of  Ragnhild's  doings,  and 
once  said  to  his  wife  so  all  might  hear — he  was  drunk, 
no  doubt,  and  annoyed  at  something  or  other : 

"That  Ragnhild's  an  underhand  creature;  I'd  be 
glad  to  be  rid  of  her." 

Fruen  answered  : 

"  It's  not  the  first  time  you've  wanted  to  get  Ragnhild 
out  of  the  way ;  Heaven  knows  what  for !  She's  the 
best  maid  we've  ever  had." 

"  For  that  particular  purpose,  I  dare  say,"  he  retorted. 

This  set  me  thinking.  Fruen  was  perhaps  crafty 
enough  to  keep  this  girl  spying,  simply  to  make  it  seem 
as  if  she  cared  at  all  what  her  husband  did.  Then 
people  could  imagine  that  Fruen,  poor  thing,  went 
about  secretly  longing  for  him,  and  being  constantly 
disappointed  and  wronged.  And  then,  of  course,  who 
could  blame  her  if  she  did  the  like  in  return,  and  went 
her  own  way  ?  Heaven  knows  if  that  was  the  way  of  it ! 

One  day  later  on  the  Captain  changed  his  tactics. 
He  had  not  managed  to  free  himself  from  Ragnhild's 
watchfulness  ;  she  was  still  there,  to  be  close  at  hand 
when  he  was  talking  to  Elisabeth  in  some  corner,  or 
making  towards  the  summer-house  late  in  the  evening 


158  WANDERERS 

to  sit  there  with  someone  undisturbed.  So  he  tried 
another  way,  and  began  making-  himself  agreeable  to 
that  same  Ragnhild.  Oho  !  'twas  a  woman's  wit — no 
doubt,  'twas  Elisabeth — had  put  him  up  to  that ! 

We  were  sitting  at  the  long  dining-table  in  the 
kitchen,  Nils  and  I  and  the  lad  ;  Fruen  was  there,  and 
the  maids  were  busy  with  their  own  work.  Then  in 
comes  the  Captain  from  the  house  with  a  brush  in  his 
hand. 

"  Give  my  coat  a  bit  of  a  brush,  d'you  mind  ?  "  says 
he  to  Ragnhild. 

She  obeyed.  When  she  had  finished,  he  thanked 
her,  saying:  "Thank  you,  my  child." 

Fruen  looked  a  little  surprised,  and,  a  moment  after, 
sent  her  maid  upstairs  for  something.  The  Captain 
looked  after  her  as  she  went,  and  said  : 

"Wonderfully  bright  eyes  that  girl  has,  to  be  sure." 

I  glanced  across  at  Fruen.  Her  eyes  were  blazing, 
her  cheeks  flushed,  as  she  moved  to  leave  the  room. 
But  in  the  doorway  she  turned,  and  now  her  face  was 
pale.  She  seemed  to  have  formed  her  resolution 
already.  Speaking  over  her  shoulder,  she  said  to  her 
husband : 

"  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  Ragnhild's  eyes  were  a 
little  too  bright." 

"  Eh?  "  says  the  Captain,  in  surprise. 

"  Yes,"  says  Fruen,  with  a  slight  laugh,  nodding 
over  towards  the  table  where  we  sat.  "  She's  getting 
a  little  too  friendly  with  the  men  out  here." 

Silence. 

"  So  perhaps  she'd  better  go,"  Fruen  went  on. 

It  was  incomparable  audacity  on  Fruen's  part,  of 
course,  to  say  such  a  thing  to  our  face,  but  we  could 
not  protest ;  we  saw  she  was  only  using  us  to  serve 
her  need. 

When  we  got  outside,  Nils  said  angrily : 


WANDERERS  159 

"  I'm  not  sure  but  I'd  better  go  back  and  say  a  word 
or  two  myself  about  that." 

But  I  dissuaded  him,  saying  it  was  not  worth 
troubling1  about. 

A  few  days  passed.  Again  the  Captain  found  an 
opportunity  of  paying  barefaced  compliments  to 
Ragnhild  :  "  .  .  .  with  a  figure  like  yours,"  he  said. 

And  the  tone  of  everything  about  the  house  now — 
badly  changed  from  of  old.  Gone  down,  grown  poorer 
year  by  year,  no  doubt,  drunken  guests  doing  their 
share  to  help,  and  idleness  and  indifference  and  child- 
lessness for  the  rest. 

In  the  evening,  Ragnhild  came  to  me  and  told  me 
she  was  dismissed  ;  Fruen  had  made  some  reference 
to  me,  and  that  was  all. 

Once  more  a  piece  of  underhand  work.  Fruen  knew 
well  I  should  not  be  long  on  the  place  ;  why  not  make 
me  the  scapegoat?  She  was  determined  to  upset  her 
husband's  calculations,  that  was  the  matter. 

Ragnhild,  by  the  way,  took  it  to  heart  a  good  deal, 
and  sobbed  and  dabbed  her  eyes.  But  after  a  while 
she  comforted  herself  with  the  thought  that,  as  soon 
as  I  was  gone,  Fruen  would  take  back  her  dismissal 
and  let  her  stay.  I,  for  my  part,  was  inwardly  sure  that 
Fruen  would  do  nothing  of  the  kind. 

Yes,  the  Captain  and  Elisabeth  might  be  content:  the 
troublesome  parlour-maid  was  to  be  sent  packing, 
surely  enough. 

But  who  was  to  know?  I  might  be  out  in  my 
reckoning  after  all.  New  happenings  set  me  question- 
ing anew  ;  ay,  forced  me  to  alter  my  judgment  once 
again.  Tis  a  sorely  difficult  thing  to  judge  the  truth 
of  humankind. 

I  learned  now,  beyond  doubt,  that  Fru  Falkenberg 
was  truly  and  honestly  jealous  of  her  husband  ;  not 


160  WANDERERS 

merely  pretending  to  be,  as  so  by  way  of  covering  her 
own  devious  ways.  Far,  indeed,  from  any  pretence 
here.  True,  she  did  not  really  believe  for  a  moment 
that  he  was  interested  in  her  maid.  But  it  suited  her 
purpose  to  pretend  she  did ;  in  her  extremity,  she 
would  use  any  means  that  came  to  hand.  She  had 
blushed  during  that  scene  in  the  kitchen  ;  yes,  indeed, 
but  that  was  a  sudden  and  natural  indignation  at  her 
husband's  ill-chosen  words,  nothing  more. 

But  she  had  no  objection  to  her  husband's  imagining 
she  was  jealous  of  the  girl.  This  was  just  what  she 
wanted.  Her  meaning  was  clear  enough.  I'm  jealous 
again,  yes  ;  you  can  see  it's  all  the  same  as  before  with 
me  :  here  I  am  !  Fru  Falkenberg  was  better  than  I 
had  thought.  For  many  years  now  the  pair  had 
slipped  farther  and  farther  from  each  other  through 
indifference,  partly  perhaps  towards  the  last,  in  defiance; 
now  she  would  take  the  first  step  and  show  that  she 
cared  for  him  still.  That  was  it,  yes.  But,  in  face  ot 
the  one  she  feared  most  of  all,  she  would  not  show  her 
jealousy  for  worlds  —  and  that  was  Elisabeth,  this 
dangerous  friend  of  hers  who  was  so  many  years 
younger  than  herself. 

Yes,  that  was  the  way  of  it. 

And  the  Captain  ?  Was  he  moved  at  all  to  see  his 
wife  flush  at  his  words  to  her  maid  ?  Maybe  a  shadow 
of  memory  from  the  old  days,  a  tinge  of  wonder,  a 
gladness.  But  he  said  no  word.  Maybe  he  was  grown 
prouder  and  more  obstinate  with  the  years  that  had 
passed.  It  might  well  seem  so  from  his  looks. 

Then  it  was  there  came  the  happenings  I  spoke  of. 


Ill 

Fru  Falkenberg  had  been  playing  with  her  husband 
now  for  some  little  time.     She  affected  indifference  to 


WANDERERS  161 

his  indifference,  and  consoled  herself  with  the  casual 
attentions  of  men  staying  in  the  house.  Now  one  and 
now  another  of  them  left,  but  stout  Captain  Bror  and 
the  lady  with  the  shawl  stayed  on,  and  Lassen,  the 
young  engineer,  stayed  too.  Captain  Falkenberg 
looked  on  as  if  to  say  :  "  Well  and  good,  stay  on  by  all 
means,  my  dear  fellow,  as  long  as  you  please."  And  it 
made  no  impression  on  him  when  his  wife  said  "  Du  " 
to  Lassen  and  called  him  Hugo.  "  Hugo  !  "  she  would 
call,  standing  on  the  steps,  looking  out.  And  the 
Captain  would  volunteer  carelessly :  "  Hugo's  just  gone 
down  the  road." 

One  day  I  heard  him  answer  her  with  a  bitter  smile 
and  a  wave  of  his  hand  towards  the  lilacs  :  "  Little  King 
Hugo  is  waiting  for  you  in  his  kingdom."  I  saw  her 
start ;  then  she  laughed  awkwardly  to  cover  her  con- 
fusion, and  went  down  in  search  of  Lassen. 

At  last  she  had  managed  to  wring  some  expression 
of  feeling  out  of  him.  She  would  try  it  again. 

This  was  on  a  Sunday. 

Later  in  the  day  Fruen  was  strangely  restless  ;  she 
said  a  few  kindly  words  to  me,  and  mentioned  that 
both  Nils  and  I  had  managed  our  work  very  well. 

"  Lars  has  been  to  the  post  office  to-day,"  she  said, 
"  to  fetch  a  letter  for  me.  It's  one  I  particularly  want. 
Would  you  mind  going  up  to  his  place  and  bringing 
it  down  for  me?" 

I  said  I  would  with  pleasure. 

"  Lars  won't  be  home  again  till  about  eleven.  So 
you  need  not  start  for  a  long  time  yet." 

Very  good. 

"And  when  you  get  back,  just  give  the  letter  to 
Ragnhild." 

It  was  the  first  time  Fru  Falkenberg  had  spoken  to 
me  during  my  present  stay  at  0vreb0  ;  it  was  some- 
thing so  new.  I  went  up  afterwards  to  my  bedroom 
ii 


1 62  WANDERERS 

and  sat  there  by  myself,  feeling  as  if  something  had 
really  happened.  I  thought  over  one  or  two  things  a 
little  as  well.  It  was  simply  foolishness,  I  told  myself, 
to  go  on  playing  the  stranger  here  and  pretending 
nobody  knew.  And  a  full  beard  was  a  nuisance  in  the 
hot  weather  ;  moreover,  it  was  grey,  and  made  me  look 
ever  so  old.  So  I  set  to  and  shaved  it  off. 

About  ten  o'clock  I  started  out  towards  the  clearing. 
Lars  was  not  back.  I  stayed  there  a  while  with  Emma, 
and  presently  he  came  in.  I  took  the  letter  and  went 
straight  home.  It  was  close  on  midnight. 

Ragnhild  was  nowhere  to  be  seen,  and  the  other 
maids  had  gone  to  bed.  I  glanced  in  at  the  shrubbery. 
There  sat  Captain  Falkenberg  and  Elisabeth,  talking 
together  at  the  round  stone  table  ;  they  took  no  notice 
of  me.  There  was  a  light  in  Fruen's  bedroom  upstairs. 
And  suddenly  it  occurred  to  me  that  to-night  I  looked 
as  I  had  done  six  years  before,  clean-shaven  as  then. 
I  took  the  letter  out  of  my  pocket  and  went  in  the 
main  entrance  to  give  it  to  Fruen  myself. 

At  the  top  of  the  stairs  Ragnhild  comes  slipping 
noiselessly  towards  me  and  takes  the  letter.  She  is 
evidently  excited.  I  can  feel  the  heat  of  her  breath 
as  she  points  along  the  passage.  There  is  a  sound  of 
voices  from  the  far  end. 

It  looked  as  if  she  had  taken  up  her  post  here  on 
guard,  or  had  been  set  there  by  someone  to  watch  ; 
however,  it  was  no  business  of  mine.  And  when  she 
whispered  :  "  Don't  say  a  word  ;  go  down  again 
quietly !  "  I  obeyed,  and  went  to  my  room. 

My  window  was  open.  I  could  hear  the  couple  down 
among  the  bushes :  they  were  drinking  wine.  And 
there  was  still  light  upstairs  in  Fruen's  room. 

Ten  minutes  passed  ;  then  the  light  went  out. 

A  moment  later  I  heard  someone  hurrying  up  the 
stairs  in  the  house,  and  looked  down  involuntarily  to 


WANDERERS  163 

see  if  it  was  the  Captain.     But  the  Captain  was  sitting 
as  before. 

Now  came  the  same  steps  down  the  stairs  again, 
and,  a  little  after,  others.  I  kept  watch  on  the  main 
entrance.  First  comes  Ragnhild,  flying  as  if  for  her 
life  over  towards  the  servants'  quarters  ;  then  comes 
Fru  Falkenberg  with  her  hair  down,  and  the  letter  in 
her  hand  showing  white  in  the  gloom.  After  her 
comes  the  engineer.  The  pair  of  them  move  down 
towards  the  high  road. 

Ragnhild  comes  rushing  in  to  me  and  flings  herself 
on  a  chair,  all  out  of  breath  and  bursting  with  news. 
Such  things  had  happened  this  evening,  she  whispered. 
Shut  the  window !  Fruen  and  that  engineer  fellow — 
never  a  thought  of  being  careful — 'twas  as  near  as  ever 
could  be  but  they'd  have  done  it.  He  was  holding  on 
to  her  when  Ragnhild  went  in  with  the  letter.  Ugh  ! 
Up  in  Fruen's  room,  with  the  lamp  blown  out. 

"You're  mad,"  said  I  to  Ragnhild. 

But  the  girl  had  both  heard  and  seen  well  enough, 
it  seemed.  She  was  grown  so  used  to  playing  the  spy 
that  she  could  not  help  spying  on  her  mistress  as  well. 
An  uncommon  sort,  was  Ragnhild. 

I  put  on  a  lofty  air  at  first,  and  would  have  none  of 
her  tale-bearing,  thank  you,  listening  at  keyholes.  Fie ! 

But  how  could  she  help  it,  she  replied.  Her  orders 
were  to  bring  up  the  letter  as  soon  as  her  mistress  put 
out  the  light,  and  not  before.  But  Fruen's  windows 
looked  out  to  the  shrubbery,  where  the  Captain  was 
sitting  with  Elisabeth  from  the  vicarage.  No  place  for 
Ragnhild  there.  Better  to  wait  upstairs  in  the  passage, 
and  just  take  a  look  at  the  keyhole  now  and  again,  to 
see  if  the  light  was  out. 

This  sounded  a  little  more  reasonable. 

"  But  only  think  of  it,"  said  Ragnhild  suddenly, 
shaking  her  head  in  admiration.  "  What  a  fellow  he 


1 64  WANDERERS 

must  be,  that  engineer,  to  get  as  near  as  that  with 
Fruen." 

As  near  as  what  ?  Jealousy  seized  me  ;  I  gave  up 
my  lofty  pose,  and  questioned  Ragnhild  searchingly 
about  it  all.  What  did  she  say  they  were  doing?  How 
did  it  all  come  about  ? 

Ragnhild  could  not  say  how  it  began.  Fruen  had 
given  her  orders  about  a  letter  that  was  to  be  fetched 
from  Lars  Falkenberg's,  and  when  it  arrived,  she  was 
to  wait  till  the  light  went  out  in  Fruen's  room,  and 
then  bring  it  up.  "  Very  good,"  said  Ragnhild.  "  But 
not  till  I  put  out  the  light,  you  understand,"  said  Fruen 
again.  And  Ragnhild  had  set  herself  to  wait  for  the 
letter.  But  the  time  seemed  endless,  and  she  fell  to 
thinking  and  wondering  about  it  all  ;  there  was  some- 
thing strange  about  it.  She  went  up  into  the  passage 
and  listened.  She  could  hear  Fruen  and  the  engineer 
talking  easily  and  without  restraint ;  stooping  down  to 
the  keyhole,  she  saw  her  mistress  loosening  her  hair, 
with  the  engineer  looking  on  and  saying  how  lovely 
she  was.  And  then — ah,  that  engineer — he  kissed  her. 

"On  the  lips,  was  it?  .   .   ." 

Ragnhild  saw  1  was  greatly  excited,  and  tried  to 
reassure  me. 

"  Well,  perhaps  not  quite.  I  won't  be  sure  ;  but 
still  .  .  .  and  he's  not  a  pretty  mouth,  anyway,  to  my 
mind.  ...  I  say,  though,  you've  shaved  all  clean  this 
evening.  How  nice  !  Let  me  see.  ..." 

"But  what  did  Fruen  say  to  that?  Did  she  slip 
away  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  think  so;  yes,  of  course  she  did — and 
screamed." 

"  Did  she,  though?  " 

"Yes;  out  loud.  And  he  said  lSh!y  And  every 
time  she  raised  her  voice  he  said  'Sh/'  again.  But 
Fruen  said  let  them  hear,  it  didn't  matter  ;  they  were 


WANDERERS 

n^'r  "7'  *"""»ery  the 

and  Elisabeth  fronthe  V4 '-I''  ""  'he  Captain 
you  can  see  them,'  she  sa^d  Tnrf  """""•     '  There' 


'  I  know.  I 

»  *  ~..«w,  says  me  ene-ineer  •  <  K,,f  c     TT 
sake,  don't  stand  there  with  h  '•  Heaven's 

went  over  and  g-ot  her  aw     *?"*          d°Wn  ! '     And  he 
they  said  a  whole  heap  ofthin™  *  6  W1'nd°W'     Then 

you  wouldn't  shouvVe^s    d  °U'wUd  ^f'"'      ' If  On^ 
quiet  up  here.'     Then  she  Wefc°uld  be  ever  so 

«t  there  smiling  at  him   Wf,S.quiet  for  a  b'«>  and  just 
ever  so  fond  of  hfm''       "*  ^^  a  Word-     She  was 

"Was  she?" 


—h.     Only  fancy,  . 
hands  so-there  »  OVer  tOWards  her-  an"  Put 

Fr»en  sat  still  and  let  him?" 


to 


ratt0h 
h'm.     I  can't  think  ho,  ^        ""  and   kissed 

a  bit  nice,  "'     F°  ' 


go  I  '  she  cried  "  '  *°  S'r°ng  '     '  N°> 


and  I  didn't  see  what  ha™  ^  Came  "P  W"h  the 
"»ck.   they'd  turned  the^  inl'    ?"?  ^  ' 
lardly  see  at  all      But   II       ^  I       °Ck>  so  ' 

~  you  doing  »     N0heanrd  FrUe"  -y'-NT=   'Oh, 
*o,    no,    we   mustn't  !  '      She 


1 66  WANDERERS 

must  have  been  in  his  arms  then.  And  then  at  last  she 
said:  '  Wait,  then  ;  let  me  get  down  a  minute.'  And 
he  let  her  go.  '  Blow  out  the  lamp,'  she  said.  And 
then  it  was  all  dark  ...  oh !  ... 

"  But  now  I  was  at  my  wits'  end  what  to  do,"  Ragn- 
hild  went  on.  "  I  stood  a  minute  all  in  a  flurry,  and 
was  just  going1  to  knock  at  the  door  all  at  once " 

"Yes,  yes;  why  didn't  you?  What  on  earth  made 
you  wait  at  all  ?  " 

"Why,  if  I  had,  then  Fruen 'd  have  known  in  a 
moment  I'd  been  listening  outside,"  answered  the  girl. 
"  No,  I  slipped  away  from  the  door  and  down  the 
stairs,  then  turned  back  and  went  up  again,  treading 
hard  so  Fruen  could  hear  the  way  I  came.  The  door 
was  still  fastened,  but  I  knocked,  and  Fruen  came  and 
opened  it.  But  the  engineer  was  just  behind  ;  he'd 
got  hold  of  her  clothes,  and  was  simply  wild  after  her. 
'  Don't  go  !  don't  go !  '  he  kept  on  saying,  and  never 
taking  the  slightest  notice  of  me.  But  then,  when  I 
turned  to  go,  Fruen  came  out  with  me.  Oh,  but  only 
think  !  It  was  as  near  as  could  be  !  .  .  ." 

A  long,  restless  night. 

At  noon,  when  we  men  came  home  from  the  fields 
next  day,  the  maids  were  whispering  something  about 
a  scene  between  the  Captain  and  his  wife.  Ragnhild 
knew  all  about  it.  The  Captain  had  noticed  his  wife 
with  her  hair  down  the  night  before,  and  the  lamp  out 
upstairs,  and  laughed  at  her  hair  and  said  wasn't  it 
pretty  !  And  Fruen  said  nothing  much  at  first,  but 
waited  her  chance,  and  then  she  said:  "Yes,  I  know. 
I  like  to  let  my  hair  down  now  and  again,  and  why 
not?  It  isn't  yours!  "  She  was  none  so  clever,  poor 
thing,  at  answering  back  in  a  quarrel. 

Then  Elisabeth  had  come  up  and  put  in  her  word. 
And  she  was  smarter — prrr!  Fruen  did  manage  to 


WANDERERS  167 

say:  "Well,  anyhow  we  were  in  the  house,  but  you 
two  were  sitting  out  among  the  bushes ! "  And  Elisabeth 
turned  sharp  at  that,  and  snapped  out :  "  We  didn't  put 
out  the  light!"  "And  if  we  did,"  said  Fruen,  "it 
made  no  difference  ;  we  came  down  directly  after." 

Heavens  !  I  thought  to  myself,  why  ever  didn't  she 
say  they  put  the  light  out  because  they  were  going 
down? 

That  was  the  end  of  it  for  a  while.  But  then,  later 
on,  the  Captain  said  something  about  Fruen  being  so 
much  older  than  Elisabeth.  "You  ought  always  to 
wear  your  hair  down,"  he  said.  "On  my  word,  it 
made  you  look  quite  a  girl  ! "  "  Oh  yes,  I  dare  say  I 
need  it  now,"  answered  Fruen.  But  seeing  Elisabeth 
turn  away  laughing,  she  flared  up  all  of  a  sudden 
and  told  her  to  take  herself  off.  And  Elisabeth  put  her 
hands  on  her  hips,  and  asked  the  Captain  to  order  her 
carriage.  "  Right !  "  says  the  Captain  at  that ;  "  and 
I'll  drive  you  myself!  " 

All  this  Ragnhild  had  heard  for  herself  standing 
close  by. 

I  thought  to  myself  they  were  jealous,  the  pair  of 
them — she,  of  his  sitting  out  in  the  shrubbery,  and  he, 
of  her  letting  her  hair  down  and  putting  out  the  light. 

As  we  came  out  of  the  kitchen,  and  were  going  across 
for  a  rest,  there  was  the  Captain  busy  with  Elisabeth's 
carriage.  He  called  me  up  and  said  : 

"  I  ought  not  to  ask  you  now,  when  you're  having 
your  rest,  but  I  wish  you'd  go  down  and  mend  the  door 
of  the  summer-house  for  me." 

"Right!"  I  said. 

Now  that  door  had  been  wrong  ever  since  the 
engineer  burst  it  open  several  nights  before.  What 
made  the  Captain  so  anxious  to  have  it  put  right  just 
at  this  moment  ?  He'd  have  no  use  for  the  summer- 
house  while  he  was  driving  Elisabeth  home.  Was  it 


1 68  WANDERERS 

because  he  wanted  to  shut  the  place  up  so  no  one  else 
should  use  it  while  he  was  away?  It  was  a  significant 
move,  if  so. 

I  took  some  tools  and  things  and  went  down  to  the 
shrubbery. 

And  now  I  had  my  first  look  at  the  summer-house 
from  inside.  It  was  comparatively  new  ;  it  had  not 
been  there  six  years  before.  A  roomy  place,  with  pic- 
tures on  the  walls,  and  even  an  alarm  clock — now  run 
down — chairs  with  cushions,  a  table,  and  an  upholstered 
settee  covered  in  red  plush.  The  blinds  were  down. 

I  set  a  couple  of  pieces  in  the  roof  first,  where  I'd 
smashed  it  with  my  empty  bottle  ;  then  I  took  off  the 
lock  to  see  what  was  wrong  there.  While  I  was  busy 
with  this  the  Captain  came  up.  He  had  evidently  been 
drinking  already  that  day,  or  was  suffering  from  a 
heavy  bout  the  night  before. 

"That's  no  burglary,"  he  said.  "Either  the  door 
must  have  been  left  open,  and  slammed  itself  to  bits,  or 
someone  must  have  stumbled  up  against  it  in  the  dark. 
One  of  the  visitors,  perhaps,  that  left  the  other  day." 

But  the  door  had  been  roughly  handled,  one  could 
see  :  the  lock  was  burst  open,  and  the  woodwork  on 
the  inside  of  the  frame  torn  away. 

"  Let  me  see  !  Put  a  new  bolt  in  here,  and  force  the 
spring  back  in  place,"  said  the  Captain,  examining  the 
lock.  He  sat  down  in  a  chair. 

Fru  Falkenberg  came  down  the  stone  steps  to  the 
shrubbery,  and  called  : 

"  Is  the  Captain  there?  " 

"Yes,"  said  I. 

Then  she  came  up.  Her  face  was  twitching  with 
emotion. 

"  I'd  like  a  word  with  you,"  she  said.  "  I  won't  keep 
you  long." 

The  Captain  answered,  without  rising : 


WANDERERS  169 

"  Certainly.  Will  you  sit  down,  or  would  you  rather 
stand  ?  No,  don't  run  away,  you  !  I've  none  too  much 
time  as  it  is,"  he  said  sharply  to  me. 

This  I  took  to  mean  that  he  wanted  the  lock  mended 
so  he  could  take  the  key  with  him  when  he  went. 

"  I  dare  say  it  wasn't — I  oughtn't  to  have  said  what  I 
did,"  Fruen  began. 

The  Captain  made  no  answer. 

But  his  silence,  after  she  had  come  down  on  purpose 
to  try  and  make  it  up,  was  more  than  she  could  bear. 
She  ended  by  saying:  "Oh,  well,  it's  all  the  same  ;  I 
don't  care." 

And  she  turned  to  go. 

"  Did  you  want  to  speak  to  me?  "  asked  the  Captain. 

"  Oh  no,  it  doesn't  matter.  Thanks,  I  shan't 
trouble." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  Captain.  He  smiled  as  he 
spoke.  He  was  drunk,  no  doubt,  and  angry  about 
something. 

But  Fruen  turned  as  she  passed  by  me  in  the  door- 
way, and  said : 

"  You  ought  not  to  drive  down  there  to-day.  There's 
gossip  enough  already." 

"  You  need  not  listen  to  it,"  he  answered. 

"  It  can't  go  on  like  this,  you  know,"  she  said  again. 
"  And  you  don't  seem  to  think  of  the  disgrace.  .  .  ." 

"  We're  both  a  little  thoughtless  in  that  respect,"  he 
answered  carelessly,  looking  round  at  the  walls. 

I  took  the  lock  and  stepped  outside. 

"Here,  don't  go  running  away  now!"  cried  the 
Captain.  "  I'm  in  a  hurry  !  " 

"Yes,  you're  in  a  hurry,  of  course,"  repeated  Fruen. 
"Going  away  again.  But  you'd  do  well  to  think  it 
over  just  for  once.  I've  been  thinking  things  over 
myself  lately  ;  only  you  wouldn't  see  .  .  ." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  asked,  haughty  and  stiff 


1 70  WANDERERS 

as  ever.  "  Was  it  your  fooling  about  at  night  with 
your  hair  down  and  lights  out  you  thought  I  wouldn't 
see  ?  Oh  yes,  no  doubt !  " 

"  I'll  have  to  finish  this  on  the  anvil,"  said  I,  and 
hurried  off. 

I  stayed  away  longer  than  was  needed,  but  when  I 
came  back  Fruen  was  still  there.  They  were  talking 
louder  than  before. 

"  And  do  you  know  what  I  have  done?  "  said  Fruen. 
"  I've  lowered  myself  so  far  as  to  show  I  was  jealous. 
Yes,  I've  done  that.  Oh,  only  about  the  maid.  ...  I 
mean  .  .  ." 

"  Well,  and  what  then?  "  said  the  Captain. 

"Oh,  won't  you  understand?  Well,  have  it  your 
own  way,  then.  You'll  have  to  take  the  consequences 
later  ;  make  no  mistake  about  that  !  " 

It  was  her  last  words,  and  it  sounded  like  an  arrow 
striking  a  shield.  She  stepped  out  and  strode  away. 

"  Manage  it  all  right  ?  "  said  the  Captain  as  I  came  up. 
But  I  could  see  his  thoughts  were  busy  with  other  things  ; 
he  was  trying  to  appear  unconcerned.  A  little  after, 
he  managed  to  yawn,  and  said  lazily  :  "  Ugh,  it's  a  long 
drive.  But  if  Nils  can't  spare  a  hand  I  must  go  myself." 

I  had  only  to  fix  the  lock  in  its  place,  and  set  a  new 
strip  down  the  inside  of  the  door-frame  ;  it  was  soon 
done.  The  Captain  tried  the  door,  put  the  key  in  his 
pocket,  thanked  me  for  the  work,  and  went  off. 

A  little  later  he  drove  away  with  Elisabeth. 

"  See  you  again  soon,"  he  called  to  Captain  Bror 
and  Engineer  Lassen,  waving  his  hand  to  them  both. 
"  Mind  you  have  a  good  time  while  I'm  away  ! " 


IV 

Evening  came.     And  what  would  happen  now  ? 
A  great  deal,  as  it  turned  out. 


WANDERERS  171 

It  started  early ;  we  men  were  at  supper  while  they 
were  having"  dinner  up  at  the  house,  and  we  could  hear 
them  carrying  on  as  gaily  as  could  be.  Ragnhild  was 
taking  in  trays  of  food  and  bottles,  and  waiting  at  table  ; 
once  when  she  came  out,  she  laughed  to  herself  and 
said  to  the  other  girls:  "I  believe  Fruen's  drunk 
herself  to-night." 

I  had  not  slept  the  night  before,  nor  had  my  midday 
rest  ;  I  was  troubled  and  nervous  after  all  that  had 
happened  the  last  two  days.  So,  as  soon  as  I  had 
finished  my  supper,  I  went  out  and  up  to  the  woods  to 
be  alone.  I  stayed  there  a  long  while. 

I  looked  down  towards  the  house.  The  Captain 
away,  the  servants  gone  to  rest,  the  beasts  in  stable 
and  shed  fast  asleep.  Stout  Captain  Bror  and  his  lady, 
too,  had  doubtless  found  a  quiet  corner  all  to  themselves 
after  dinner  ;  he  was  simply  wild  about  the  woman, 
for  all  he  was  old  and  fat  and  she  herself  no  longer 
young.  That  left  only  Fru  Falkenberg  and  the  young 
engineer.  And  where  would  they  be  now? 

'Twas  their  affair. 

I  sauntered  home  again,  yawning  and  shivering  a 
little  in  the  cool  night,  and  went  up  to  my  room. 
After  a  while  Ragnhild  came  up,  and  begged  me  to 
keep  awake  and  be  ready  to  help  in  case  of  need.  It 
was  horrible,  she  said  ;  they  were  carrying  on  like 
mad  things  up  at  the  house,  walking  about  from  one 
room  to  another,  half  undressed  and  drunk  as  well. 
Was  Fruen  drunk,  too  ?  Yes,  she  was.  And  was  she 
walking  about  half  undressed  ?  No,  but  Captain  Bror 
was,  and  Fruen  clapped  her  hands  .and  cried  "  Bravo !  " 
And  the  engineer  as  well.  It  was  one  as  bad  as  the 
other.  And  Ragnhild  had  just  taken  in  two  more 
bottles  of  wine,  though  they  were  drunk  already. 

"  Come  over  with  me  and  you  can  hear  them  yourself," 
said  Ragnhild.  "They're  up  in  Fruen's  room  now." 


i;2  WANDERERS 

"No,"  I  said.  "I'm  going  to  bed.  And  you'd 
better  go,  too." 

"  But  they'll  ring  in  a  minute  and  be  wanting  some- 
thing if  I  do." 

"  Let  them  ring!  " 

And  then  it  was  Ragnhild  confessed  that  the  Captain 
himself  had  asked  her  to  stay  up  that  night  in  case 
Fruen  should  want  her. 

This  altered  the  whole  aspect  of  affairs  in  a  moment. 
Evidently  the  Captain  had  feared  something  might 
happen,  and  set  Ragnhild  on  guard  in  case.  I  put 
on  my  blouse  again  and  went  across  with  her  to  the 
house. 

We  went  upstairs  and  stood  in  the  passage ;  we 
could  hear  them  laughing  and  making  a  noise  in 
Fruen's  room.  But  Fruen  herself  spoke  as  clearly  as 
ever,  and  was  not  drunk  at  all.  "Yes,  she  is,"  said 
Ragnhild,  "anyhow,  she's  not  like  herself  to-night." 

I  wished  I  could  have  seen  her  for  a  moment. 

We  went  back  to  the  kitchen  and  sat  down.  But 
I  was  restless  all  the  time  ;  after  a  little  I  took  down 
the  lamp  from  the  wall  and  told  Ragnhild  to  follow  me. 
We  went  upstairs  again. 

"  No  ;  go  in  and  ask  Fruen  to  come  out  here  to  me," 
I  said. 

"Why,  whatever  for?" 

"  I've  a  message  for  her." 

And  Ragnhild  knocked  at  the  door  and  went  in. 

It  was  only  at  the  last  moment  I  hit  on  any  message 
to  give.  I  could  simply  look  her  straight  in  the  face 
and  say:  "The  Captain  sent  his  kind  regards."1 
Would  that  be  enough?  I  might  say  more:  "The 

1  Kapteinen  bad  mig  hilse  Dem  :  literally,  "The  Captain  bade 
me  greet  you."  Such  a  message  would  not  seem  quite  so 
uncalled  for  in  Norway,  such  greetings  (Hilsen)  being  given  and 
sent  more  frequently,  and  on  slighter  occasion,  than  with  us. 


WANDERERS  173 

Captain  was   obliged   to   drive   himself,   because    Nils 
couldn't  spare  anyone  to  go." 

But  a  moment  can  be  long  at  times,  and  thought  a 
lightning  flash.  I  found  time  to  reject  both  these 
plans  and  hatch  out  another  before  Fruen  came. 
Though  I  doubt  if  my  last  plan  was  any  better. 

Fruen  asked  in  surprise  : 

"  Well,  what  do  you  want  ?  " 

Ragnhild  came  up,  too,  and  looked  at  me  wonder- 
ingly. 

I  turned  the  lamp  towards  Fruen's  face  and  said  : 

"  I  beg  pardon  for  coming  up  so  late.  I'll  be  going 
to  the  post  first  thing  to-morrow  ;  I  thought  if  perhaps 
Fruen  had  any  letters  to  go  ?  " 

"  Letters?     No,"  she  answered,  shaking  her  head. 

There  was  an  absent  look  in  her  eyes,  but  she  did 
not  look  in  the  least  as  if  she  had  been  drinking. 

"  No,  I've  no  letters,"  she  said,  and  moved  to  go. 

"  Beg  pardon,  then,"  I  said. 

"  Was  it  the  Captain  told  you  to  go  to  the  post?" 
she  asked. 

"  No,  I  was  just  going  for  myself." 

She  turned  and  went  back  to  her  room.  Before  she 
was  well  through  the  door  I  heard  her  say  to  the 
others : 

"A  nice  pretext,  indeed." 

Ragnhild  and  I  went  down  again.     I  had  seen  her. 

Oh,  but  I  was  humbled  now  indeed  !  And  it  did  not 
ease  my  mind  at  all  when  Ragnhild  incautiously  let 
out  a  further  piece  of  news.  It  seemed  she  had  been 
romancing  before  ;  it  was  not  true  about  the  Captain's 
having  asked  her  to  keep  a  look-out.  I  grew  more 
and  more  convinced  in  my  own  mind  :  Ragnhild  was 
playing  the  spy  on  her  own  account,  for  sheer  love  of 
the  game. 

I  left  her,  and  went  up  to  my  room.     What  had  my 


174  WANDERERS 

clumsy  intrusion  gained  for  me,  after  all  ?  A  pretext, 
she  had  said ;  clearly  she  had  seen  through  it  all. 
Disgusted  with  myself,  I  vowed  that  for  the  future  I 
would  leave  things  and  people  to  themselves. 

I  threw  myself  down  fully  dressed  on  the  bed. 

After  a  while  I  heard  Fru  Falkenberg's  voice  outside 
in  front  of  the  house  ;  my  window  was  open,  and  she 
spoke  loudly  enough.  The  engineer  was  with  her, 
putting  in  a  word  now  and  again.  Fruen  was  in 
raptures  over  the  weather,  so  fine  it  was,  and  such  a 
warm  night.  Oh,  it  was  lovely  out  now — ever  so  much 
nicer  than  indoors ! 

But  her  voice  seemed  a  trifle  less  clear  now  than 
before. 

I  ran  to  the  window,  and  saw  the  pair  of  them 
standing  by  the  steps  that  led  down  to  the  shrubbery. 
The  engineer  seemed  to  have  something  on  his  mind 
that  he  had  not  been  able  to  get  said  before.  "Do 
listen  to  me  now,"  he  said.  Then  followed  a  brief 
and  earnest  pleading,  which  was  answered — ay,  and 
rewarded.  He  spoke  as  if  to  one  hard  of  hearing, 
because  she  had  been  deaf  to  his  words  so  long ;  they 
stood  there  by  the  stone  steps,  neither  of  them  caring 
for  anyone  else  in  the  world.  Let  any  listen  or  watch 
who  pleased  ;  the  night  was  theirs,  the  world  was 
theirs,  and  the  spring-time  was  about  them,  drawing 
them  together.  He  watched  her  like  a  cat ;  every 
movement  of  her  body  set  his  blood  tingling  ;  he  was 
ready  to  spring  upon  her  in  a  moment.  And  when  it 
came  near  to  action  there  was  a  power  of  will  in  his 
manner  towards  her.  Ay,  the  young  spark  ! 

"  I've  begged  and  prayed  you  long  enough,"  he  said 

breathlessly.     "Yesterday  you  all  but  would;   to-day 

you're  deaf  again.     You  think  you  and  Bror  and  Tante x 

and  the  rest  are  to  have  a  good  time  and  no  harm 

1  "  Auntie."     Evidently  Captain  Bror's  lady  is  meant. 


WANDERERS  175 

done,  while  I  look  on  and  play  the  nice  young  man  ? 
But,  by  Heaven,  you're  wrong !  Here's  you  yourself, 
a  garden  of  all  good  things  right  in  front  of  me,  and  a 
fence  ...  do  you  know  what  I'm  going  to  do  now 
with  that  silly  fence  ?  " 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?  No,  Hugo,  you've 
had  too  much  to  drink  this  evening.  You're  so  young. 
We've  both  drunk  more  than  we  ought,"  she  said. 

"And  then  you  play  me  false  into  the  bargain,  with 
your  tricks.  You  send  a  special  messenger  for  a  letter 
that  simply  can't  wait,  and  at  the  same  time  you're 
cruel  enough  to  let  me  think  ...  to  promise  me  .  .  ." 

"  I'll  never  do  it  again,  Hugo." 

"Never  do  it  again?  What  do  you  mean  by  that? 
When  you  can  go  up  to  a  man — yes,  to  me,  and  kiss 
me  like  you  did.  .  .  .  What's  the  good  of  saying 
you'll  never  do  it  any  more?  It's  done,  and  a  kiss  like 
that's  not  a  thing  to  forget.  I  can  feel  it  still,  and  it's 
a  mad  delight,  and  I  thank  you  for  it.  You've  got 
that  letter  in  your  dress  ;  let  me  see  it." 

"You're  so  excited,  Hugo.  No,  it's  getting  late 
now.  We'd  better  say  good-night." 

"  Will  you  show  me  that  letter?  " 

"  Show  you  the  letter  ?     Certainly  not !  " 

At  that  he  made  a  half-spring,  as  if  to  take  it  by 
force,  but  checked  himself,  and  snapped  out  : 

"What?  You  won't?  Well,  on  my  word  you 
are  .  .  .  Mean's  not  the  word  for  it.  You're  some- 
thing worse.  ..." 

"Hugo!" 

' '  Yes,  you  are  !  " 

"If  you  -will  see  the  letter,  here  it  is  !  "  She  thrust 
her  hand  into  her  blouse,  took  out  her  letter,  opened  it, 
and  waved  it  at  him,  flourishing  her  innocence.  "  Here's 

the  letter— from  my  mother  ;  there's  her  signature 

look.  From  mother — and  now  what  do  you  say  ?  " 


1 76  WANDERERS 

He  quailed  as  if  at  a  blow,  and  only  said : 

"From  your  mother?  Why,  then,  it  didn't  matter 
at  all  ?  " 

"  No ;  there  you  are.  Oh,  but  of  course  it  did 
matter  in  a  way,  but  still  ..." 

He  leaned  up  against  the  fence,  and  began  to  work 
it  out : 

"  From  your  mother  ...  I  see.  A  letter  from 
your  mother  came  and  interrupted  us.  Do  you  know 
what  I  think  ?  You've  been  cheating.  You've  been 
fooling  me  all  along.  I  can  see  it  all  now." 

She  tried  again. 

"It  was  an  important  letter.  Mama  is  coming — 
she's  coming  here  to  stay  very  soon.  And  I  was 
waiting  to  hear." 

"You  were  cheating  all  the  time,  weren't  you?"  he 
said  again.  "  Let  them  bring  in  the  letter  just  at  the 
right  moment,  when  we'd  put  out  the  light.  Yes,  that's 
it.  You  were  just  leading  me  on,  to  see  how  far  I'd  go, 
and  kept  your  maid  close  at  hand  to  protect  you." 

"Oh,  do  be  sensible!  It's  ever  so  late;  we  must 
go  in." 

"  Ugh!  I  had  too  much  to  drink  up  there,  I  think. 
Can't  talk  straight  now." 

He  could  think  of  nothing  but  the  letter,  and  went 
on  about  it  again  : 

"  For  there  was  no  need  to  have  all  that  mystery 
about  a  letter  from  home.  No  ;  I  see  it  all  now.  Want 
to  go  in,  you  say?  Well  then,  go  in,  Frue,  by  all 
means.  Godnat,  Frue.  My  dutiful  respects,  as  from 
a  son." 

He  bowed,  and  stood  watching  her  with  a  sneering 
smile. 

"  A  son?  Oh  yes,"  she  replied,  with  sudden  emotion. 
"  I  am  old,  yes.  And  you  are  so  young,  Hugo,  that's 
true.  And  that's  why  I  kissed  you.  But  I  couldn't  be 


WANDERERS  177 

your  mother — no,  it's  only  that  I'm  older,  ever  so  much 
older  than  you.  But  I'm  not  quite  an  old  woman  yet, 
and  that  you  should  see  if  only  .  .  .  But  I'm  older  than 
Elisabeth  and  everyone  else.  Oh,  what  am  I  talking 
about  ?  Not  a  bit  of  it.  I  don't  know  what  else  the 
years  may  have  done  to  me,  but  they  haven't  made  me 
an  old  woman  yet.  Have  they  ?  What  do  you  think 
yourself?  Oh,  but  what  do  you  know  about  it?  .  .  ." 

"  No,  no,"  he  said  softly.  "  But  is  there  any  sense 
in  going  on  like  this  ?  Here  are  you,  young  as  you  are, 
with  nothing  on  earth  to  do  all  the  time  but  keep 
guard  over  yourself  and  get  others  to  do  the  same. 
And  the  Lord  in  heaven  knows  you  promised  me  a 
thing,  but  it  means  so  little  to  you  ;  you  take  a  pleasure 
in  putting  me  off  and  beating  me  down  with  your  great 
white  wings." 

"  Great  white  wings,"  she  murmured  to  herself. 

"  Yes,  you  might  have  great  red  wings.  Look  at 
yourself  now,  standing  there  all  lovely  as  you  are,  and 
all  for  nothing." 

"Oh,  I  think  the  wine  has  gone  to  my  head!  All 
for  nothing,  indeed  !  " 

Then  suddenly  she  takes  his  hand  and  leads  him  down 
the  steps.  I  can  hear  her  voice  :  "  Why  should  I  care  ? 
Does  he  imagine  Elisabeth's  so  much  better?" 

They  pass  along  the  path  to  the  summer-house. 
Here  she  hesitates,  and  stops. 

"  Oh,  where  are  we  going?  "  she  asks.  "  Haha,  we 
must  be  mad  !  You  wouldn't  have  thought  I  was  mad, 
would  you  ?  I'm  not,  either — that  is  to  say,  yes,  I  am, 
now  and  again.  There,  the  door's  locked  ;  very  well, 
we'll  go  away  again.  But  what  a  mean  trick  to  lock 
the  door,  when  we  want  to  go  in." 

Full  of  bitterness  and  suspicion,  he  answered  : 

"  Now,  you're  cheating  again.   You  knew  well  enough 
the  door  was  locked." 
12 


1 78  WANDERERS 

"  Oh,  must  you  always  think  the  worst  of  me?  But 
why  should  he  lock  the  door  so  carefully  and  have  the 
place  all  to  himself?  Yes,  I  did  know  it  was  locked, 
and  that's  why  I  came  with  you.  I  dare  not.  No, 
Hugo,  I  won't,  I  mean  it.  Oh,  are  you  mad  ?  Come 
back  ! " 

She  took  his  hand  again  and  tried  to  turn  back  ;  they 
stood  struggling  a  little,  for  he  would  not  follow.  Then 
in  his  passion  and  strength  he  threw  both  arms  round 
her  and  kissed  her  again  and  again.  And  she  weakened 
ever  more  and  more,  speaking  brokenly  between  the 
kisses  : 

"  I've  never  kissed  any  other  man  before — never  ! 
It's  true — I  swear  it.  I've  never  kissed  ..." 

"  No,  no,  no,"  he  answers  impatiently,  drawing  her 
step  by  step  the  way  he  will. 

Outside  the  summer-house  he  looses  his  hold  of  her  a 
moment,  flings  himself,  one  shoulder  forward,  heavily 
against  the  door,  and  breaks  it  open  for  the  second 
time.  Then  in  one  stride  he  is  beside  her  once  more. 
Neither  speaks. 

But  even  at  the  door,  she  checks  again — stands 
clinging  to  the  door-posts,  and  will  not  move. 

"  No,  no,  I've  never  been  unfaithful  to  him  yet.  I 
won't ;  I've  never — never  .  .  ." 

He  draws  her  to  him  suddenly,  kisses  her  a  full 
minute,  two  minutes,  a  deep,  unbroken  kiss  ;  she  leans 
back  from  the  waist,  her  hand  slips  where  it  holds,  and 
she  gives  way.  .  .  . 

A  white  mist  gathers  before  my  eyes.  So  ...  they 
have  come  to  it  now.  Now  he  takes  her,  has  his  will 
and  joy  of  her.  .  .  . 

A  melancholy  weariness  and  rest  comes  over  me.  I 
feel  miserable  and  alone.  It  is  late  ;  my  heart  has  had 
its  day.  .  .  . 

Through  the  white  mist  comes  a  leaping  figure  ;  it  is 


WANDERERS  179 

Ragnhild  coming1  up  from  among  the  bushes,  running 
with  her  tongue  thrust  out. 

The  engineer  came  up  to  me,  nodded  Godmorgen,  and 
asked  me  to  mend  the  summer-house  door. 

"Is  it  broken  again  ?  " 

"Yes,  it  got  broken  last  night." 

It  was  early  for  him  to  be  about — no  more  than  half- 
past  four  ;  we  farm-hands  had  not  yet  started  for  the 
fields.  His  eyes  showed  small  and  glittering,  as  if  they 
burned  ;  likely  enough  he  had  not  slept  all  night.  But 
he  said  nothing  as  to  how  the  door  had  got  broken. 

Not  for  any  thought  of  him,  but  for  Captain  Falken- 
berg's  sake,  I  went  down  at  once  to  the  summer-house 
and  mended  the  door  once  again.  No  need  for  such 
haste,  maybe  ;  the  Captain  had  a  long  drive  there  and 
back,  but  it  was  close  on  twenty-four  hours  now  since 
he  started. 

The  engineer  came  down  with  me.  Without  in  the 
least  perceiving  how  it  came  about,  I  found  myself 
thinking  well  of  him  ;  he  had  broken  open  that  door 
last  night — quite  so,  but  he  was  not  the  man  to  sneak 
out  of  it  after.  He  and  no  other  it  was  who  had  it 
mended.  Eh,  well,  perhaps  after  all  'twas  only  my 
vanity  was  pleased.  I  felt  flattered  at  his  trusting  to 
my  silence.  That  was  it.  That  was  how  I  came  to 
think  well  of  him. 

"  I'm  in  charge  of  some  timber-rafting  on  the  rivers," 
he  said.  "  How  long  are  you  staying  here? " 

"  Not  for  long.  Till  the  field-work's  over  for  the 
season." 

"  I  could  give  you  work  if  you'd  care  about  it." 

Now  this  was  work  I  knew  nothing"  of,  and,  what  was 
more,  I  liked  to  be  among  field  and  forest,  not  with 
lumbermen  and  proletariat.  However,  I  thanked  him 
for  the  offer. 


1 80  WANDERERS 

"  Very  good  of  you  to  come  and  put  this  right.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  I  broke  it  open  looking  for  a  gun.  I 
wanted  to  shoot  something,  and  I  thought  there  might 
be  a  gun  in  there." 

I  made  no  answer  ;  it  would  have  pleased  me  better 
if  he  had  said  nothing. 

"  So  I  thought  I'd  ask  you  before  you  started  out  to 
work,"  he  said,  to  finish  off. 

I  put  the  lock  right  and  set  it  in  its  place  again,  and 
began  nailing  up  the  woodwork,  which  was  shattered  as 
before.  While  I  was  busy  with  this,  we  heard  Captain 
Falkenberg's  voice  ;  through  the  bushes  we  could  see 
him  unharnessing  the  horses  and  leading  them  in. 

The  engineer  gave  a  start ;  he  fumbled  for  his  watch, 
and  got  it  out,  but  his  eyes  had  grown  all  big  and 
empty — they  could  see  nothing.  Suddenly  he  said  : 

"Oh,  I  forgot,  I  must  .   .   ." 

And  he  hurried  off  far  down  the  garden. 

"  So  he's  going  to  sneak  out  of  it,  after  all,"  I  thought 
to  myself. 

A  moment  later  the  Captain  himself  came  down.  He 
was  pale,  and  covered  with  dust,  and  plainly  had  not 
slept,  but  perfectly  sober.  He  called  to  me  from  a 
distance : 

"  Hei !  how  did  you  get  in  there  ?  " 

I  touched  my  cap,  but  said  nothing. 

"  Somebody  been  breaking  in  again?  " 

"  It  was  only  ...  I  just  remembered  I'd  left  out 
a  couple  of  nails  here  yesterday.  It's  all  right  now. 
If  Captain  will  lock  up  again  .  .  ." 

Fool  that  I  was !  If  that  was  the  best  excuse  I 
could  find,  he  would  see  through  it  all  at  once. 

He  stood  for  a  few  seconds  looking  at  the  door  with 
half-closed  eyes ;  he  had  his  suspicions,  no  doubt. 
Then  he  took  out  the  key,  locked  up  the  place,  and 
walked  off.  What  else  could  he  do  ? 


WANDERERS  181 


All  the  guests  are  gone— stout  Captain  Bror,  the 
lady  with  the  shawl,  Engineer  Lassen  as  well.  And 
Captain  Falkenberg  is  getting  ready  to  start  for 
manoeuvres  at  last  It  struck  me  that  he  must  have 
applied  for  leave  on  very  special  grounds,  or  he  would 
have  been  away  on  duty  long  before  this. 

We  farm-hands  have  been  hard  at  work  in  the  fields 
the  last  few  days — a  heavy  strain  on  man  and  beast. 
But  Nils  knew  what  he  was  doing ;  he  wanted  to  gain 
time  for  something  else. 

One  day  he  set  me  to  work  cleaning  up  all  round 
outside  the  house  and  buildings.  It  took  all  the  time 
gained,  and  more,  but  it  made  the  whole  place  look 
different  altogether.  And  that  was  what  Nils  wanted 
—to  cheer  the  Captain  up  a  little  before  he  left  home. 
And  I  turned  to  of  my  own  accord  and  fixed  up  a  loose 
pale  or  so  in  the  garden  fence,  straightened  the  door  of 
a  shed  that  was  wry  on  its  hinges,  and  such-like.  And 
the  barn  bridge,  too,  needed  mending.  I  thought  of 
putting  in  new  beams. 

"Where  will  you  be  going  when  you  leave  here?" 
asked  the  Captain. 

"  I  don't  know.     I'll  be  on  the  road  for  a  bit." 
"I  could  do  with  you  here  for  a  while;   there's  a 
lot  of  things  that  want  doing." 

"Captain  was  thinking  of  paintwork,  maybe?" 
"  Painting,  too — yes.  I'm  not  sure  about  that,  though ; 
it  would  be  a  costly  business,  with  the  outbuildings  and 
all.  No,  I  was  thinking  of  something  else.  Do  you 
know  anything  about  timber,  now?  Could  you  mark 
down  for  yourself?  " 

It  pleased  him,  then,  to  pretend  he  did  not  recognise 
me  from  the  time  I  had  worked  in  his  timber  before.  But 
was  there  anything  left  now  to  fell  ?  I  answered  him  : 


1 82  WANDERERS 

"Ay,  I'm  used  to  timber.  Where  would  it  be  this 
year?  " 

"Anywhere.  Wherever  you  like.  There  must  be 
something  left,  surely." 

"Ay,  well." 

I  laid  the  new  beams  in  the  barn  bridge,  and  when 
that  was  done,  I  took  down  the  flagstaff  and  put  on  a 
new  knob  and  line.  Ovrebo  was  looking  quite  nice 
already,  and  Nils  said  it  made  him  feel  better  only  to 
look  at  it.  I  got  him  to  talk  to  the  Captain  and  put 
in  a  word  about  the  paintwork,  but  the  Captain  had 
looked  at  him  with  a  troubled  air  and  said  :  "  Yes,  yes, 
I  know.  But  paint's  not  the  only  thing  we've  got  to 
think  about.  Wait  till  the  autumn  and  see  how  the 
crops  turn  out.  We've  sowed  a  lot  this  year." 

But  when  the  flagstaff  stood  there  with  the  old  paint 
all  scraped  off,  and  a  new  knob  and  halliards,  the  Captain 
could  not  help  noticing  it,  and  ordered  some  paint  by 
telegraph.  Though,  to  be  sure,  there  was  no  such  hurry 
as  all  that ;  a  letter  by  the  post  had  been  enough. 

Two  days  passed.  The  paint  arrived,  but  was  put 
aside  for  the  time  being  ;  we  had  not  done  with  the 
field-work  yet  by  a  long  way,  though  we  were  using 
both  the  carriage  horses  for  sowing  and  harrowing, 
and  when  it  came  to  planting  potatoes,  Nils  had  to  ask 
up  at  the  house  for  the  maids  to  come  and  help.  The 
Captain  gave  him  leave,  said  yes  to  all  that  was  asked, 
and  went  off  to  manoeuvres.  So  we  were  left  to 
ourselves. 

But  there  was  a  big  scene  between  husband  and  wife 
before  he  went. 

Every  one  of  us  on  the  place  knew  there  was  trouble 
between  them,  and  Ragnhild  and  the  dairymaid  were 
always  talking  about  it.  The  fields  were  coming  on 
nicely  now,  and  you  could  see  the  change  in  the  grass- 
land from  day  to-day  ;  it  was  fine  spring  weather,  and 


WANDERERS  183 

all  things  doing  well  that  grew,  but  there  was  trouble 
and  strife  at  Ovrebo.  Fruen  could  be  seen  at  times 
with  a  face  that  showed  she  had  been  crying  ;  or  other 
times  with  an  air  of  exaggerated  haughtiness,  as  if  she 
no  longer  cared  for  any  encounter.  Her  mother  came 
—a  pale,  quiet  lady  with  spectacles  and  a  face  like  a 
mouse.  She  did  not  stay  long— only  a  few  days  ;  then 
she  went  back  to  Kristianssand— that  was  where  she 
lived.  The  air  here  did  not  agree  with  her,  she  said. 

Ah,  that  great  scene  !  A  bitter  final  reckoning  that 
lasted  over  an  hour— Ragnhild  told  us  all  about  it 
afterwards.  Neither  the  Captain  nor  Fruen  raised 
their  voices,  but  the  words  came  slow  and  strong. 
And  in  their  bitterness  the  pair  of  them  agreed  to  go 
each  their  own  way  from  now  on. 

44 Oh,  you  don't  say  so!"  cried  all  in  the  kitchen, 
clasping  their  hands. 

Ragnhild  drew  herself  up  and  began  mimicking: 

1  You've  been  breaking  into  the  summer-house  again 
with  someone  ?  '  said  the  Captain.  •  Yes,'  said  Fruen. 
4  And  what  more  ? '  he  asked.  '  Everything,'  said  she. 
The  Captain  smiled  at  that  and  said :  '  There's  some- 
thing  frank  and  open  about  an  answer  like  that ;  you 
can  see  what  is  meant  almost  at  once.'  Fruen  said 
nothing  to  that.  '  What  you  can  see  in  that  young  puppy, 
I  don't  know— though  he  did  help  me  once  out  of  a 
fix.'  Fruen  looked  at  him  then,  and  said:  'Helped 
you  ? '  '  Yes,'  said  the  Captain  ;  '  backed  a  bill  for 
me  once.'  And  Fruen  said:  'I  didn't  know  that.' 
Then  the  Captain :  'Didn't  he  tell  you  that?'  Fruen 
shook  her  head.  'Well,  what  then?'  he  said  again. 
'Would  it  have  made  any  difference  if  he  had?' 
'Yes,'  said  Fruen  at  first,  and  then  •  No.'  'Are 
you  fond  of  him?'  he  asked.  And  she  turned  on 
him  at  once.  'Are  you  fond  of  Elisabeth?'  'Yes,' 
answered  the  Captain ;  but  he  sat  smiling  after  that. 


1 84  WANDERERS 

'  Well  and  good,'  said  Fruen  sharply.  Then  there 
was  a  long  silence.  The  Captain  was  the  first  to 
speak.  '  You  were  right  when  you  said  that  about 
thinking  over  things.  I've  been  doing  so.  I'm  not 
a  vicious  man,  really  ;  queerly  enough,  I've  never  really 
cared  about  drinking  and  playing  the  fool.  And  yet  I 
suppose  I  did,  in  a  way.  But  there's  an  end  of  it  now.' 
'  So  much  the  better  for  you,'  she  answered  sullenly. 
'  Quite  so,'  says  he  again.  '  Though  it  would  have 
been  better  if  you'd  been  a  bit  glad  to  hear  it.'  '  You 
can  get  Elisabeth  to  do  that,'  says  she.  '  Elisabeth,' 
says  he — just  that  one  word — and  shakes  his  head. 
Then  they  said  nothing  for  quite  a  while.  '  What  are 
you  going  to  do  now?'  asks  the  Captain.  '  Oh,  don't 
trouble  yourself  about  me,'  said  Fruen  very  slowly. 
'  I  can  be  a  nurse,  if  you  like,  or  cut  my  hair  short  and 
be  a  school  teacher,  if  you  like.'  '  If  I  like,'  says  he  ; 
'  no,  decide  for  yourself.'  '  I  want  to  know  what  you 
are  going  to  do  first,'  she  says.  '  I'm  going  to  stay 
here  where  I  am,'  he  answered,  '  but  you've  turned 
yourself  out  of  doors.'  And  Fruen  nodded  and  said  : 
'Very  well.' ' 

"  Oh,"  from  all  in  the  kitchen.  "  Oh  but,  Herregud! 
it  will  come  right  again  surely,"  said  Nils,  looking 
round  at  the  rest  of  us  to  see  what  we  thought. 

For  a  couple  of  days  after  the  Captain  had  gone, 
Fruen  sat  playing  the  piano  all  the  time.  On  the  third 
day  Nils  drove  her  to  the  station  ;  she  was  going  to 
stay  with  her  mother  at  Kristianssand.  That  left  us 
more  alone  than  ever.  Fruen  had  not  taken  any  of  her 
things  with  her  ;  perhaps  she  felt  they  were  not  really 
hers  ;  perhaps  they  had  all  come  from  him  originally, 
and  she  did  not  care  to  have  them  now.  Oh,  but  it 
was  all  a  misery. 

Ragnhild  was  not  to  go  away,  her  mistress  had 
said.  But  it  was  cook  that  was  left  in  charge  of 


WANDERERS  185 

everything,  and  kept  the  keys,  which  was  best  for  all 
concerned. 

On  Saturday  the  Captain  came  back  home  on  leave. 
Nils  said  he  never  used  to  do  that  before.  Fine  and 
upright  in  his  bearing  he  was,  for  all  that  his  wife  was 
gone  away,  and  he  was  sober  as  could  be.  He  gave  me 
orders,  very  short  and  clear,  about  the  timber  ;  came 
out  with  me  and  showed  here  and  there.  "Battens, 
down  to  smallest  battens,  a  thousand  dozen.  I  shall 
be  away  three  weeks  this  time,"  he  said.  On  the 
Sunday  afternoon  he  went  off  again.  He  was  more 
determined  in  his  manner  now — more  like  himself. 

We  were  through  with  the  field-work  at  last,  and  the 
potato-planting  was  done  ;  after  that,  Nils  and  the  lad 
could  manage  the  daily  work  by  themselves,  and  I  went 
up  to  my  new  work  among  the  timber. 

Good  days  these  were  for  me,  all  through.  Warm 
and  rainy  at  first,  making  the  woods  all  wet,  but  I 
went  out  all  the  same,  and  never  stayed  in  on  that 
account.  Then  a  spell  of  hot  weather  set  in,  and  in 
the  light  evenings,  after  I  got  home  from  work,  it  was 
a  pleasure  to  go  round  mending  and  seeing  to  little 
things  here  and  there — a  gutter-pipe,  a  window,  and 
the  like.  At  last  I  got  the  escape  ladder  up  and  set  to 
scraping  the  old  paint  from  the  north  wall  of  the  barn 
—it  was  flaking  away  there  of  itself.  It  would  be  a 
neat  piece  of  work  if  I  could  get  the  barn  done  this 
summer  after  all,  and  the  paint  was  there  all  ready. 

But  there  was  another  thing  that  made  me  weary  at 
times  of  the  work  and  the  whole  place.  It  was  not  the 
same  working  there  now  as  when  the  Captain  and 
Fruen  were  at  home  ;  I  found  here  confirmation  of  the 
well-known  truth  that  it  is  well  for  a  man  to  have  some- 
one over  him  at  his  work,  that  is,  if  he  is  not  himself 
in  charge  as  leading  man.  Here  were  the  maids  now, 


1 86  WANDERERS 

going  about  the  place  with  none  to  look  after  them. 
Ragnhild  and  the  dairymaid  were  always  laughing  and 
joking  noisily  at  meal-times,  and  quarrelling  now  and 
again  between  themselves  ;  cook's  authority  was  not 
always  enough  to  keep  the  peace,  and  this  often  made 
things  uncomfortable.  Also,  it  seemed  that  someone 
must  have  been  talking  to  Lars  Falkenberg,  my  good 
old  comrade  that  had  been,  and  made  him  suspicious  of 
me  now. 

Lars  came  in  one  evening  and  took  me  aside  ;  he  had 
come  to  say  he  forbade  me  to  show  myself  on  his  place 
again.  His  manner  was  comically  threatening. 

Now,  I  had  not  been  there  more  than  a  few  times  with 
washing — maybe  half  a  dozen  times  in  all  ;  he  had  been 
out,  but  Emma  and  I  had  talked  a  bit  of  old  things 
and  new.  The  last  time  I  was  there  Lars  came  home 
suddenly  and  made  a  scene  the  moment  he  got  inside 
the  door,  because  Emma  was  sitting  on  a  stool  in  her 
petticoat.  "  It's  too  hot  for  a  skirt,"  she  said.  "  Ho, 
yes,  and  your  hair  all  down  your  back — too  hot  to  put  it 
up,  I  suppose?"  he  retorted.  Altogether  he  was  in  a 
rage  with  her.  I  said  good-night  to  him  as  I  left,  but 
he  did  not  answer. 

I  had  not  been  there  since.  Then  what  made  him 
come  over  like  this  all  of  a  sudden?  I  set  it  down  as 
more  of  Ragnhild's  mischievous  work. 

When  he  had  told  me  in  so  many  words  he  forbade 
me  to  enter  his  house,  Lars  nodded  and  looked  at  me  ; 
to  his  mind,  I  ought  now  to  be  as  one  dead. 

"  And  I've  heard  Emma's  been  down  here,"  he  went 
on.  "  But  she'll  come  no  more,  I  fancy,  after  this." 

"She  may  have  been  here  once  or  twice  for  the 
washing." 

"  Ho,  yes,  the  washing,  of  course.  And  you  coming 
up  yourself  Heaven  knows  how  many  times  a  week — 
more  washing !  Bring  up  a  shirt  one  day  and  a 


WANDERERS  187 

pair  of  drawers  the  next,  that's  what  you  do.     But  you 
can  get  Ragnhild  to  do  your  washing  now." 

"  Well  and  good." 

"Aha,  my  friend,  I  know  you  and  your  little  ways. 
Going  and  visiting  and  making  yourself  sweet  to  folk 
when  you  find  them  all  alone.  But  not  for  me,  thank 
you !  " 

Nils  comes  up  to  us  now,  guessing,  no  doubt,  what's 
the  trouble,  and  ready  to  put  in  a  word  for  me,  like  the 
good  comrade  he  is.  He  catches  the  last  words,  and 
gives  me  a  testimonial  on  the  spot,  to  the  effect  that 
he's  never  seen  anything  wrong  about  me  all  the  time 
I've  been  in  the  place. 

But  Lars  Falkenberg  bridles  up  at  once  and  puts  on 
airs,  looking  Nils  up  and  down  with  contempt.  He 
has  a  grudge  against  Nils  already.  For  though  Lars 
had  managed  well  enough  since  he  got  his  own  little 
place  up  in  the  wood,  he  had  never  equalled  Nils's  work 
here  on  the  Captain's  land.  And  Lars  Falkenberg  feels 
himself  aggrieved. 

"What  have  you  got  to  come  cackling  about?"  he 
asks. 

"  I'm  saying  what  is  the  truth,  that's  all,"  answers 
Nils. 

"  Ho,  are  you,  you  goat?  If  you  want  me  to  wipe 
the  floor  with  you,  I'll  do  it  on  the  spot !  " 

Nils  and  I  walked  away,  but  Lars  still  shouted  after 
us.  And  there  was  Ragnhild,  of  course,  sniffing  at  the 
lilacs  as  we  passed. 

That  evening  I  began  to  think  about  moving  on 
again  as  soon  as  I  had  finished  my  work  in  the  timber. 
When  the  three  weeks  were  up,  the  Captain  came  back 
as  he  had  said.  He  noticed  I  had  scraped  the  northern 
wall  of  the  barn,  and  was  pleased  with  me  for  that. 
"  End  of  it'll  be  you'll  have  to  paint  that  again,  too," 
he  said.  I  told  him  how  far  I  had  got  with  the  timber  ; 


1 88  WANDERERS 

there  was  not  much  left  now.  "  Well,  keep  at  it  and 
do  some  more,"  was  all  he  said.  Then  he  went  back 
to  his  duty  again  for  another  three  weeks. 

But  I  did  not  care  to  stay  another  three  weeks  at 
0vreb0  as  things  were  now.  I  marked  down  a  few 
score  dozen  battens,  and  reckoned  it  all  out  on  my 
paper — that  would  have  to  do.  But  it  was  still  too 
early  for  a  man  to  live  in  the  forests  and  hills  ;  the 
flowers*  were  come,  but  there  were  no  berries  yet. 
Song  and  twitter  of  birds  at  their  mating,  flies  and 
midges  and  moths,  but  no  cloudberries,  no  angelica. 

In  town. 

I  came  in  to  Engineer  Lassen,  Inspector  of  Rafting 
Sections,  and  he  took  me  on  as  he  had  promised,  though 
it  was  late  in  the  season  now.  To  begin  with,  I  am  to 
make  a  tour  of  the  water  and  see  where  the  logs  have 
gathered  thickest,  noting  down  the  places  on  a  chart. 
He  is  quite  a  good  fellow,  the  engineer,  only  still  very 
young.  He  gives  me  over-careful  instructions  about 
things  he  fancies  I  don't  know  already.  It  makes  him 
seem  a  trifle  precocious. 

And  so  this  man  has  helped  Captain  Falkenberg  out 
of  a  mess?  The  Captain  was  sorry  for  it  now,  no 
doubt,  anxious  to  free  himself  from  the  debt — that  was 
why  he  was  cutting  down  his  timber  to  the  last  lot  of 
battens,  I  thought.  And  I  wished  him  free  of  it  myself. 
I  was  sorry  now  I  had  not  stayed  on  marking  down 
a  few  more  days,  that  he  might  have  enough  and  to 
spare.  What  if  it  should  prove  too  little,  after  all  ? 

Engineer  Lassen  was  a  wealthy  man,  apparently. 
He  lived  at  an  hotel,  and  had  two  rooms  there.  I  never 
got  farther  than  the  office  myself,  but  even  there  he 
had  a  lot  of  costly  things,  books  and  papers,  silver 
things  for  the  writing-table,  gilt  instruments  and 
things  ;  a  light  overcoat,  silk-lined,  hung  on  the  wall. 


WANDERERS  189 

Evidently  a  rich  man,  and  a  person  of  importance  in 
the  place.  The  local  photographer  had  a  large-sized 
photograph  of  him  in  the  show-case  outside.  I  saw 
him,  too,  out  walking  in  the  afternoons  with  the  young 
ladies  of  the  town.  Being  in  charge  of  all  the  timber 
traffic,  he  generally  walked  down  to  the  long  bridge — 
it  was  four  hundred  and  sixty  feet — across  the  rapids, 
halted  there,  and  stood  looking  up  and  down  the  river. 
Just  by  the  bridge  piers,  and  on  the  flat  rocks  below 
them,  was  where  the  logs  were  most  inclined  to  jam, 
and  he  kept  a  gang  of  lumbermen  regularly  at  hand  for 
this  work  alone.  Standing  on  the  bridge  there,  watch- 
ing the  men  at  work  among  the  logs,  he  looked  like  an 
admiral  on  board  a  ship,  young  and  strong,  with  power 
to  command.  The  ladies  with  him  stopped  willingly, 
and  stood  there  on  the  bridge,  though  the  rush  of  water 
was  often  enough  to  make  one  giddy.  And  the  roar  of 
it  was  such  that  they  had  to  put  their  heads  together 
when  they  spoke. 

But  just  in  this  position,  at  his  post  on  the  bridge, 
standing  there  and  turning  this  way  and  that,  there 
was  something  smallish  and  unhandsome  about  his 
figure;  his  sports  jacket,  fitting  tightly  at  the  waist, 
seemed  to  pinch,  and  showed  up  over-heavy  contours 
behind. 

The  very  first  evening,  after  he'd  given  me  my  orders 
to  start  off  up  the  river  next  day,  I  met  him  out  walk- 
ing with  two  ladies.  At  sight  of  me  he  stopped,  and 
kept  his  companions  waiting  there,  too,  while  he  gave 
me  the  same  instructions  all  over  again.  "Just  as  well 
I  happened  to  meet  you,"  he  said.  "  You'll  start  off 
early,  then,  to-morrow  morning.  Take  a  hooking  pole 
with  you,  and  clear  all  the  logs  you  can  manage.  If 
you  come  across  a  big  jam,  mark  it  down  on  the  chart 
— you've  got  a  copy  of  the  chart,  haven't  you  ?  And 
keep  on  up  river  till  you  meet  another  man  coming 


190  WANDERERS 

down.  But  remember  to  mark  in  red,  not  blue.  And 
let  me  see  how  well  you  can  manage. — A  man  I've  got  to 
work  under  me,"  he  explained  to  the  ladies.  "  I  really 
can't  be  bothered  running  up  and  down  all  the  time." 

So  serious  he  was  about  it  all ;  he  even  took  out  a 
notebook  and  wrote  something  down.  He  was  very 
young,  and  could  not  help  showing  off  a  little  with  two 
fair  ladies  to  look  on. 

Next  morning  I  got  away  early.  It  was  light  at 
four,  and  by  that  time  I  was  a  good  way  up  the  river. 
I  carried  food  with  me,  and  my  hooking  pole — which  is 
like  a  boat-hook  really. 

No  young,  growing  timber  here,  as  on  Captain  Fal- 
kenberg's  land  ;  the  ground  was  stony  and  barren, 
covered  with  heather  and  pine  needles  for  miles  round. 
They  had  felled  too  freely  here  ;  the  sawmills  had  taken 
over-much,  leaving  next  to  no  young  wood.  It  was  a 
melancholy  country  to  be  in. 

By  noon  I  had  cleared  a  few  small  jams,  and  marked 
down  a  big  one.  Then  I  had  my  meal,  with  a  drink  of 
water  from  the  river.  A  bit  of  a  rest,  and  I  went  on 
again,  on  till  the  evening.  Then  I  came  upon  a  big 
jam,  where  a  man  was  already  at  work  among  the  logs. 
This  was  the  man  I  had  been  told  to  look  out  for.  I 
did  not  go  straight  up  to  him  at  first,  but  stopped  to 
look  at  him.  He  worked  very  cautiously,  as  if  in  terror 
of  his  life  ;  he  was  even  afraid  of  getting  his  feet  wet. 
It  amused  me  to  watch  him  for  a  little.  The  least 
chance  of  being  carried  out  into  the  stream  on  a 
loosened  log  was  enough  to  make  him  shift  at  once. 
At  last  I  went  up  close  and  looked  at  him — why  .  .  . 
yes,  it  was  my  old  friend,  Grindhusen. 

Grindhusen,  that  I  had  worked  with  as  a  young  man 
at  Skreia — my  partner  in  the  digging  of  a  certain  well 
six  years  before. 

And  now  to  meet  him  here. 


WANDERERS  191 

We  gave  each  other  greeting,  and  sat  down  on  the 
logs  to  talk,  asking  and  answering  for  an  hour  or  more. 
Then  it  was  too  late  to  get  any  more  done  that  day. 
We  got  up  and  went  back  a  little  way  up  the  river, 
where  Grindhusen  had  a  bit  of  a  log  hut.  We  crept  in, 
lit  a  fire,  made  some  coffee,  and  had  a  meal.  Then, 
going  outside  again,  we  lit  our  pipes  and  lay  down  in 
the  heather. 

Grindhusen  had  aged,  and  was  in  no  better  case  than 
I  myself;  he  did  not  care  to  think  of  the  gay  times  in 
our  youth,  when  we  had  danced  the  whole  night 
through.  He  it  was  that  had  once  been  as  a  red-haired 
wolf  among  the  girls,  but  now  he  was  thoroughly 
cowed  by  age  and  toil,  and  had  not  even  a  smile.  If 
I  had  only  had  a  drop  of  spirits  with  me  it  might  have 
livened  him  up  a  little,  but  I  had  none. 

In  the  old  days  he  had  been  a  stiff-necked  fellow, 
obstinate  as  could  be  ;  now  he  was  easy-going  and 
stupid.  "Ay,  maybe  so,"  was  his  answer  to  every- 
thing.  "Ay,  you're  right,"  he  would  say.  Not  that 
he  meant  it ;  only  that  life  had  taught  him  to  seek  the 
easiest  way.  So  life  does  with  all  of  us,  as  the  years 
go  by— but  it  was  an  ill  thing  to  see,  meeting  him  so. 

Ay,  he  got  along  somehow,  he  said,  but  he  was  not 
the  man  he  used  to  be.  He'd  been  troubled  with  gout 
of  late,  and  pains  in  the  chest  as  well.  His  pains  in 
the  chest  were  cardialgic.  But  it  was  none  so  bad  as 
long  as  he'd  the  work  here  for  Engineer  Lassen.  He 
knew  the  river  right  up,  and  worked  here  all  spring 
and  early  summer  in  his  hut.  And  as  for  clothes,  he'd 
nothing  to  wear  out  save  breeches  and  blouse  all  the 
year  round.  Had  a  bit  of  luck,  though,  last  year,  he 
said  suddenly.  Found  a  sheep  with  nobody  to  own  it 
Sheep  in  the  forest?  Up  that  way,  he  said,  pointing.' 
He'd  had  meat  on  Sundays  half  through  the  winter 
off  that  sheep.  Then  he'd  his  folks  in  America  as  good 


192  WANDERERS 

as  anyone  else  :  children  married  there  and  well-to-do. 
They  sent  him  a  little  to  help  the  first  year  or  so,  but 
now  they'd  stopped  ;  it  was  close  on  two  years  now 
since  he'd  heard  from  them  at  all.  Eyah  !  well,  that's 
how  things  were  now  with  him  and  his  wife.  And 
getting  old.  .  .  . 

Grindhusen  lapsed  into  thought. 

A  dull,  rushing  sound  from  the  forest  and  the  river, 
like  millions  of  nothings  flowing  and  flowing  on.  No 
birds  here,  no  creatures  hopping  about,  but  if  I  turn  up 
a  stone,  I  may  find  some  insect  under  it. 

"  Wonder  what  these  tiny  things  live  on  ?  "  I  say. 

"What  tiny  things?"  says  Grindhusen.  "Those? 
That's  only  ants  and  things." 

"  It's  a  sort  of  beetle,"  I  tell  him.  "  Put  one  on  the 
grass  and  roll  a  stone  on  top  of  it,  and  it'll  live." 

Grindhusen  answers  :  "  Ay,  maybe  so,"  but  thinking 
never  a  word  of  what  I've  said,  and  I  think  the  rest  to 
myself ;  but  put  an  ant  there  under  the  stone  as  well, 
and  very  soon  there'll  be  no  beetle  left. 

And  the  rush  of  the  forest  and  river  goes  on  :  'tis  one 
eternity  that  speaks  with  another,  and  agrees.  But  in 
the  storms  and  in  thunder  they  are  at  war. 

"  Ay,  so  it  is,"  says  Grindhusen  at  last.  "  Two  years 
come  next  fourteenth  of  August  since  the  last  letter 
came.  There  was  a  smart  photograph  in,  from  Olea, 
it  was,  that  lives  in  Dakota.,  as  they  call  it.  A  mighty 
fine  photograph  it  was,  but  I  never  got  it  sold.  Eyah, 
but  we'll  manage  somehow,  please  the  Lord,"  says 
Grindhusen,  with  a  yawn.  "  What  was  I  going  to  say 
now  ?  .  .  .  What  is  he  paying  for  the  work  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

But  Grindhusen  looks  at  me  suspiciously,  thinking  it 
is  only  that  I  will  not  say. 

"Ay,  well,  'tis  all  the  same  to  me,"  he  says.  "I 
was  only  asking." 


WANDERERS  I93 

To  please  him,  I  try  to  guess  a  wage.  "  I  dare  say 
he'll  give  me  a  couple  of  Kroner  a  day,  or  perhaps  three, 
d  you  think?" 

"Ay,   dare   say  you   may,"   he    answers   enviously. 

Two  Kroner's  all  I  get,  and  I'm  an  old  hand  at  the 
work." 

Then   fancying,    perhaps,    I    may   go   telling   of  his 
grumbling,  he  starts  off  in  praise  of  Engineer  Lassen 
saying   what   a   splendid    fellow   he  is  in   every   way' 

He'll  do  what's  fair  by  me,  that  I  know.  Trust  him 
for  that !  Why,  he's  been  as  good  as  a  father  to  me, 
and  that's  the  truth  !  " 

It  sounds  quaint,  indeed,  to  hear  Grindhusen,  half  his 
teeth  gone  with  age,  talking  of  the  young  engineer  as  a 
father.  I  felt  pretty  sure  I  could  find  out  a  good  deal 
about  my  new  employer  from  this  quarter,  but  I  did 
not  ask. 

"  He  didn't  say  anything  about  me  coming  down  into 
town  ?  "  asked  Grindhusen. 

"  No." 

"  He  sends  up  for  me  now  and  again,  and  when  I 
get  there,  it's  not  for  anything  particular— only  wants 
to  have  a  bit  of  a  chat  with  me,  that's  all.  Ay,  a  fine 
fellow  is  the  engineer  !  " 

It  is  getting  late.  Grindhusen  yawns  again,  creeps 
into  the  hut  and  lies  down. 

Next  morning  we  cleared  the  jam.  «  Come  up  with 
me  my  way  a  bit,"  says  Grindhusen.  And  I  went. 
After  an  hour's  walking,  we  sighted  the  fields  and 
buildings  of  a  hill  farm  up  among  the  trees.  And 
suddenly  I  recollect  the  sheep  Grindhusen  had  found. 

^  Was  it  up  this  way  you  found  that  sheep  ?  "  I  ask. 

Grindhusen  looks  at  me. 

"  Here  ?  No,  that  was  ever  so  far  away— right  over 
towards  Trovatn." 


194  WANDERERS 

"  But  Trovatn's  only  in  the  next  parish,  isn't  it?" 

"  Yes,  that's  what  I  say.  It's  ever  so  far  away  from 
here." 

But  now  Grindhusen  does  not  care  to  have  my  com- 
pany farther  ;  he  stops,  and  thanks  me  for  coming  up 
so  far.  I  might  just  as  well  go  up  to  the  farm  with 
him,  and  I  say  so  ;  but  Grindhusen,  it  seems,  is  not 
going  up  to  the  farm  at  all — he  never  did.  And  I'd 
just  have  an  easy  day  back  into  town,  starting  now. 

So  I  turned  and  went  back  the  way  I  had  come. 

VI 

It  was  no  sort  of  work  this  for  a  man  ;  I  was  not 
satisfied.  Nothing  but  walk,  walk  up  and  down  the 
river,  clearing  a  few  logs  here  and  there,  and  then  on 
again.  And  after  each  trip,  back  to  my  lodging-house 
in  the  town.  All  this  time  I  had  but  one  man  to  talk 
to — the  boots  or  porter  at  the  hotel  where  the  engineer 
was  staying.  He  was  a  burly  fellow,  with  huge  fists, 
and  eyes  like  a  child's.  He  had  fallen  down  and  hurt 
his  head  as  a  youngster,  he  said,  and  never  got  on  in 
life  beyond  hauling  things  and  carrying  heavy  loads. 
I  had  a  talk  with  him  now  and  again,  but  found  no  one 
else  to  talk  to  in  the  town. 

That  little  town ! 

When  the  river  is  high,  a  mighty  roar  of  sound  goes 
rushing  through  the  place,  dividing  it  in  two.  Folk 
live  in  their  little  wooden  houses  north  or  south  of  the 
roar,  and  manage,  no  doubt,  to  make  ends  meet  from 
day  to  day.  Of  all  the  many  children  crossing  the 
bridge  and  running  errands  to  the  shops,  there  is  none 
that  goes  naked,  probably  few  that  suffer  want,  and 
all  are  decent  looking  enough.  And  here  are  big,  tall, 
half-grown  girls,  the  quaintest  of  all,  with  their  awk- 
ward movements,  and  their  laughter,  and  their  earnest 


WANDERERS 

occupation  with  their  own  little  affair*      w 

nude  one  **"  *"  e'S^  and 


nudge  one  another  andgo  o 
But  there  are  no  birds  here 


Strange,  that  there  should  be  no   birds' 

" 


even 

eent  that 


promenades 


packet.     Living-  in   Vestlanrf    Jf     u    ^  P°sU 


ni.htP  e 

day?     Oh,  we  are  all  so  interest  I    ?  S  '°' 

little  railway  as  well   but  th  '  We  have  a 

The  line  ends  here  it  run,  f'  C°Unt  f°r  much' 
stops,  Bk.  a  cork  "j^e  farAanSd''Can  P>  and  th- 
cosy  and  pleasant  about  £  th^v  •'  SOmethin? 


196  WANDERERS 

then  there's  the  sawmills  and  works  by  the  riverside. 
But  as  for  grocery  shops  and  stores,  there's  more  than 
you'd  believe. 

We've  so  many  things  altogether.  I  am  a  stranger 
here  myself — as  indeed  I  am  everywhere — yet  I  could 
reckon  up  a  host  of  things  we  have  besides  the  river. 
Was  the  town  a  big  place  once  upon  a  time  ?  No,  it 
has  been  a  little  town  for  two  hundred  and  fifty  years. 
But  there  was  once  a  great  man  over  all  the  smaller 
folk— one  who  rode  lordly  fashion  with  a  servant  behind 
him — a  great  landowner.  Now  we  are  all  equal ;  saving, 
perhaps,  with  Engineer  Lassen,  this  something-and- 
t wen ty- year-old  Inspector  of  Rafting  Sections,  who  can 
afford  two  rooms  at  his  hotel. 

I  have  nothing  to  do,  and  find  myself  pondering  over 
the  following  matter : 

Here  is  a  big  house,  somewhere  about  a  couple  of 
hundred  years  old,  the  house  of  the  wealthy  Ole  Olsen 
Ture.  It  is  of  enormous  size,  a  house  of  two  stories, 
the  length  of  a  whole  block  ;  it  is  used  as  a  depot  now. 
In  the  days  when  that  house  was  built  there  was  no 
lack  of  giant  timber  hereabouts  ;  three  beams  together 
make  the  height  of  a  man,  and  the  wood  is  hard  as 
iron  ;  nothing  can  bite  on  it.  And  inside  the  building 
are  halls  and  cells  as  in  a  castle.  Here  Ture  the  Great 
ruled  like  a  prince  in  his  day. 

But  times  changed.  Houses  were  made  not  only 
big,  not  only  to  live  in  for  shelter  from  cold  and  rain, 
but  also  to  look  on  with  pleasure  to  the  eye.  On  the 
opposite  side  of  the  river  stands  an  old  archaic  building 
with  carefully  balanced  verandah  in  the  Empire  style, 
pillars,  fronton,  and  all.  It  is  not  faultless,  but  hand- 
some all  the  same  ;  it  stands  out  like  a  white  temple  on 
the  green  hillside.  One  other  house  I  have  seen  and 
stopped  to  look  at ;  one  near  the  market-place.  Its 
double  street  door  has  old  handles  and  carved  rococo 


WANDERERS  ig? 

mirrors,  but  the  frames  cannelated  in  the  style  of 
Louis  xvr.  The  cartouche  above  the  doorway  bears 
the  date  1795  m  Arabic  numerals— that  was  our  transi- 
tion period  here !  So  there  were  folk  here  at  that  time 
who  kept  in  touch  with  the  times,  without  the  aid  of 
steam  and  telegraph. 

But  later  on,  again,  houses  were  built  to  keep  off- 
ram  and  snow  and  nothing  else.      They  were  neither 
big  nor  beautiful  to  look  at.     The  idea  was  to  put  up 
some  sort  of  a  dwelling-,  Swiss  fashion-a  place  to  keep 
a  wife    and    children   in,   and  that  was   all.     And  we 
learned  from  a  miserable  little  people  up  in  the  Alps, 
a  people  that  throughout  its  history  has  never  been  or 
done  anything  worth  speaking  of-we  learned  to  pay 
heed  to  what  a  homestead  really  looked   like,  as 
long  as  it  met  with  the  approval  of  loafing  tourists       Is 
there  something  of  the  calm  and  beauty  of  a  temple 
about  that  white  building  on  the  hillside  ?     And  pray 
what's  the  use  of  it  if  there  is?     And  the  great  big 
house  that  dates  from  the  time  of  Ole  Olsen  Ture,  why 
hasn  tit  been  pulled  down  long  ago  ?     There  would  be 
>m  for  a  score  of  cheap  dwellings  on  the  site 
Things    have  gone    downhill,  gone   to   the   depths 
And  now  the  little  cobbler-soul  can  rejoice-not  because 
we  re  all  grown  equally  great,  but  because  we're  all 
equally  small.      'Tis  our  affair  ! 

The  long  bridge  is  pleasant  to  walk  on  because  it  is 
paved  with  planks,  and  even  as  a  floor;  all  the  young 
ad.es  can  walk  gracefully  here.  And  the  bridge  is 
light  and  open  at  the  sides,  making  an  excellent  look- 
out place  for  us  inquisitive  folk. 

Down  on  the  raft  of  tangled  logs  the  men  are  shout- 
ing, as  they  strain  to  free  the  timber  that  has  caught  and 
=tuck  fast  among  the  rocks  and  boulders  in  the  river- 
Bd.      Stick  after  stick  comes  floating  down  and  joins 
e  mass  already  gathered  ;  the  jam  grows  and  grows  ; 


193  WANDERERS 

at  times  there  may  be  a  couple  of  hundred  dozen  baulks 
hung  up  at  one  spot.  But  if  all  goes  well,  the  gang 
can  clear  the  jam  in  time.  And  if  fate  will  have  it  ill, 
some  unlucky  lumberman  may  be  carried  down  as  well, 
down  the  rapids  to  his  death. 

There  are  ten  men  with  boat-hooks  on  the  jam,  all 
more  or  less  wet  from  falling  in.  The  foreman  points 
out  the  log  next  to  be  freed,  but  we,  watching  from  the 
bridge,  can  see  now  and  again  that  all  the  gang  are  not 
agreed.  There  is  no  hearing  what  is  said,  but  we  can 
see  some  of  them  are  inclined  to  get  another  log  out  first  ; 
one  of  the  old  hands  protests.  Knowing  his  speech  as 
I  do,  I  fancy  I  can  hear  him  saying  stubbornly  and 
calmly:  "I  doubt  we'd  better  see  and  get  that  one 
clear  first."  Ten  pairs  of  eyes  are  turned  towards  the 
stick  he  has  chosen,  tracing  the  lie  of  it  in  among 
its  tangled  fellows  ;  jif  the  men  agree,  ten  boat-hooks 
are  thrust  into  it.  Then  for  a  moment  the  poles  stand 
out  from  the  log  like  the  strings  of  a  harp  ;  a  mighty 
"ffbf"  from  the  gang,  a  short,  tense  haul,  and  it 
moves  a  trifle  forward.  A  fresh  grip,  another  shout, 
and  forward  again.  It  is  like  watching  half  a  score  of 
ants  about  a  twig.  And  at  last  the  freed  log  slides  out 
and  away  down  the  rapids. 

But  there  are  logs  that  are  almost  immovable,  and 
often  it  is  just  one  of  the  worst  that  has  to  be  cleared 
before  anything  else  can  be  done.  Then  the  men 
spread  out  and  surround  it,  fixing  their  hooks  wherever 
they  can  get  a  sight  of  it  in  the  tangle,  some  hauling, 
others  thrusting  outward ;  if  it  is  dry,  they  splash 
water  over  it  to  make  it  slippery.  And  here  the  poles 
are  nowise  regularly  set  like  harp-strings,  but  lie  cross- 
wise at  all  angles  like  a  cobweb. 

Sometimes  the  shouting  of  the  gang  can  be  heard 
all  day  long  from  the  river,  silenced  only  for  meals  ; 
ay,  it  may  happen  that  it  goes  on  for  days  together. 


WANDERERS  199 

Then  suddenly  a  new  sound  falls  on  the  ear :  the 
stroke  of  the  axe  ;  some  devil  of  a  log  has  fixed  itself 
so  cunningly  there  is  no  hauling  it  free,  and  it  has 
to  be  cut  through.  It  does  not  take  many  strokes 
to  do  it,  for  the  pressure  on  it  already  is  enormous  ; 
soon  it  breaks,  the  great  confused  mass  yields,  and 
begins  to  move.  All  the  men  are  on  their  guard 
now,  holding  back  to  see  what  is  coming  next ;  if  the 
part  they  are  standing  on  shows  signs  of  breaking  loose, 
they  must  leap  with  catlike  swiftness  to  a  safer  spot. 
Their  calling  is  one  of  daily  and  hourly  peril  ;  they 
carry  their  lives  in  their  hands. 

But  the  little  town  is  a  living  death. 

It  is  pitiful  to  see  such  a  dead  place,  trying  to 
pretend  it  is  alive.  It  is  the  same  with  Bruges,  the 
great  city  of  the  past,  and  with  many  cities  in  Holland, 
in  South  Germany,  the  north  of  France,  the  Orient. 
Standing  in  the  market-place  of  such  a  town  one 
cannot  but  think:  "Once,  once  upon  a  time  this 
was  a  living  place ;  there  are  still  human  beings 
walking  in  the  streets  !  " 

Strange,  this  town  of  ours  is  hidden  away,  shut 
in  by  the  hills — and  yet  for  all  that  it  has  no  doubt 
its  local  feminine  beauty  and  its  local  masculine 
ambition  just  as  all  other  towns.  Only  it  is  such  a 
queer,  outlandish  life  that  is  lived  here,  with  little 
crooked  fingers,  with  eyes  as  of  a  mouse,  and  ears 
filled  day  and  night  with  the  eternal  rushing  of  the 
waters.  A  beetle  on  its  way  in  the  heather,  a  stub 
of  yellow  grass  sticks  up  here  and  there — huge  trees 
they  seem  to  the  beetle's  eye  !  Two  local  merchants 
walk  across  the  bridge.  Going  to  the  post,  no  doubt. 
They  have  this  very  day  decided  to  go  halves  in  a 
whole  sheet  of  stamps,  buying  them  all  at  once  for  the 
sake  of  the  rebate  on  a  quantity  ! 


200  WANDERERS 

Oh,  those  local  tradesmen  ! 

Each  day  they  hang  out  their  stocks  of  ready-made 
clothes,  and  dress  their  windows  with  their  stuffs 
and  goods,  but  rarely  do  I  see  a  customer  go  in.  I 
thought  to  myself  at  first :  But  there  must  surely  be 
someone  now  and  then — a  peasant  from  somewhere 
up  the  valley,  coming  into  town.  And  I  was  right  ; 
I  saw  that  peasant  to-day,  and  it  was  strange  and 
pleasant  to  see  him. 

He  was  dressed  like  the  pictures  in  our  folk-tales 
— a  little  short  jacket  with  silver  buttons,  and  grey 
breeches  with  a  black  leather  seat.  He  was  driving 
a  tiny  little  haycart  with  a  tiny  little  horse,  and  up  in 
the  cart  was  a  little  red-flanked  cow — on  its  way  to 
the  butcher's,  I  suppose.  All  three — man,  horse,  and 
cow — were  undersized  ;  palaeolithic  figures ;  dwarf 
creatures  from  the  underworld  on  a  visit  to  the 
haunts  of  men.  I  almost  looked  to  see  them  vanish 
before  my  eyes.  All  of  a  sudden  the  cow  in  its 
Lilliputian  cart  utters  a  throaty  roar — and  even  that 
unromantic  sound  was  like  a  voice  from  another 
world. 

A  couple  of  hours  later  I  come  upon  the  man  again, 
minus  horse  and  cow  ;  he  is  wandering  round  among 
the  shops  on  his  errands.  I  follow  him  to  the  saddler's 
— saddler  and  harness-maker  Vogt  is  also  a  glazier, 
and  deals  in  leather  as  well.  This  merchant  of  many 
parts  offers  to  serve  me  first,  but  I  explain  that  I 
must  look  at  a  saddle,  and  some  glass,  and  a  trifle 
of  leather  first,  I  am  in  no  hurry.  So  he  turns  to  the 
elfin  countryman. 

The  two  are  old  acquaintances. 

"  So  here's  you  come  to  town  ?  " 

"  Ay,  that's  the  way  of  it." 

And  so  on  through  the  whole  rigmarole  ;  wind  and 
weather,  and  the  state  of  the  roads  ;  wife  and  children 


WANDERERS  201 

getting  on  as  usual ;  season  and  crops  ;  river's  fallen 
so  much  the  last  week  ;  butchers'  prices  ;  hard  times 
nowadays,  etc.  Then  they  begin  trying  the  leather, 
pinching  and  feeling  and  bending  it  about  and  talking 
it  over.  And  when  at  last  a  strip  is  cut  off  and 
weighed,  the  mannikin  finds  it  a  marvel,  sure,  that 
ever  it  could  weigh  so  much  !  Reckon  it  at  a  round 
figure,  those  little  bits  of  weights  aren't  worth  count- 
ing! And  the  two  of  them  argue  and  split  over  this 
for  a  good  solid  while,  as  is  right  and  proper.  When 
at  last  it  comes  to  paying  for  the  goods,  a  fantastic 
leather  purse  is  brought  to  light,  a  thing  out  of  a  fairy 
tale.  Slowly  and  cautiously  the  heavy  fist  draws  forth 
the  coins,  one  shilling  after  another  ;  both  parties  count 
the  money  over  again  and  again,  then  the  mannikin 
closes  his  purse  with  an  anxious  movement ;  that  is 
all  he  has  ! 

"  Why,  you've  coin  and  paper  too  ;  I  saw  a  note 
in  there." 

"  Nay,  I'll  not  break  the  note." 

More  reckoning  and  arguing — a  long  business  this  ; 
each  gives  way  a  little,  they  split  the  difference — and 
the  deal  is  over. 

"And  a  terrible  heap  to  pay  for  a  bit  of  leather," 
says  the  purchaser.  And  the  dealer  answers  : 

"  Nay,  you've  got  it  a  bargain.  But  don't  forget  me 
next  time  you're  in  town." 

Towards  evening  I  meet  the  mannikin  once  more, 
driving  home  again  after  his  venture  into  the  world. 
The  cow  has  been  left  behind  at  the  butcher's.  There 
are  parcels  and  sacks  in  the  cart,  but  the  little  man  him- 
self jogs  along  behind,  the  leather  seat  of  his  breeches 
stretching  to  a  triangle  at  every  step.  And  whether 
for  thoughtlessness,  or  an  overweight  of  thought  after 
all  these  doings  and  dealings,  he  wears  a  rolled-up 
strip  of  sole  leather  like  a  ring  about  one  arm. 


202  WANDERERS 

So  money  has  flowed  into  the  town  once  more  ;  a 
peasant  has  come  in  and  sold  his  cow,  and  spent  the 
price  of  it  again  in  goods.  The  event  is  noticed  every- 
where at  once :  the  town's  three  lawyers  notice  it,  the 
three  little  local  papers  notice  it ;  money  is  circulating 
more  freely  of  late.  Unproductive — but  it  helps  the 
town  to  live. 

Every  week  the  little  local  papers  advertise  town 
properties  for  sale  ;  every  week  a  list  is  issued  by  the 
authorities  of  houses  to  be  sold  in  liquidation  of  the 
unpaid  tax.  What  then?  Ah,  but  mark  how  many 
properties  come  on  the  market  that  way  !  The  barren, 
rocky  valley  with  its  great  river  cannot  feed  this 
moribund  town  ;  a  cow  now  and  again  is  not  enough. 
And  so  it  is  that  the  properties  are  given  up,  the 
Swiss-pattern  houses,  the  dwellings  and  shelters.  Out 
Vestland  way,  if  ever  a  house  in  one  of  the  little  towns 
should  chance  to  come  up  for  sale,  it  is  a  great  event  ; 
the  inhabitants  flock  together  on  the  quay  to  talk  it 
over.  Here,  in  our  little  town  beyond  all  hope,  it 
occasions  no  remark  when  another  wearied  hand  leaves 
hold  of  what  it  had.  My  turn  now — 'twill  be  another's 
before  long.  And  none  finds  it  worth  while  sorrowing 
much  for  that. 

Engineer  Lassen  came  to  my  lodging  and  said  : 

"  Put  on  your  cap  and  come  with  me  to  the  station 
to  fetch  a  trunk." 

"  No,"  said  I.     "  I'm  not  going  to  do  that." 

"  Not  going  to  .   .   ." 

"  No.  There's  a  porter  at  the  hotel  for  that  sort  of 
thing.  Let  him  earn  the  money." 

It  was  quite  enough.  The  engineer  was  very  young ; 
he  looked  at  me  and  said  nothing.  But,  being  obstinate 
by  nature,  he  would  not  give  up  at  once  ;  he  changed 
his  tone. 


WANDERERS  203 

"  I'd  rather  have  you,"  he  said.  "  I've  a  reason  for 
it,  and  I  wish  you  would." 

"That's  a  different  matter.     Then  I  will." 

I  put  on  my  cap,  and  I  am  ready  ;  he  walks  on  ahead, 
and  I  follow  behind.  Ten  minutes'  waiting  at  the 
station,  and  the  train  comes  in.  It  consists  of  three 
toy  carriages,  and  a  few  passengers  tumble  out.  In 
the  rear  carriage  is  a  lady  trying  to  alight ;  the 
engineer  hurries  to  assist  her. 

I  paid  no  great  heed  to  what  was  happening.  The 
lady  was  veiled  and  wore  gloves  ;  a  light  coat  she 
handed  to  her  escort.  She  seemed  embarrassed  at 
first,  and  said  only  a  few  words  in  a  low  voice,  but  he 
was  quite  the  reverse,  talking  loudly  and  freely  all  the 
time.  And  when  he  begged  her  to  take  off  her  veil, 
she  grew  bolder,  and  did  as  he  said. 

"  Do  you  know  me  now?"  she  said.  And  suddenly 
I  pricked  up  my  ears  ;  it  was  Fru  Falkenberg's  voice. 
I  turned  round  and  looked  her  in  the  face. 

It  is  no  easy  matter  to  be  old  and  done  with  and 
behave  as  such.  The  moment  I  realised  who  it  was 
standing  there  I  could  think  of  nothing  but  my  age- 
worn  self,  and  how  to  stand  and  bow  with  ease  and 
respect.  Now,  I  had  among  my  possessions  a  blouse, 
and  breeches  of  brown  corduroy  such  as  labourers  wear 
in  the  south  ;  an  excellent,  well-looking  suit,  and  new. 
But,  alas  1  I  had  not  put  it  on  to-day.  And  the  lack  of 
it  at  that  moment  irked  me.  I  was  down-hearted  at 
the  thought.  And,  while  the  two  stood  there  talking, 
I  fell  to  wondering  why  the  engineer  had  wanted  me  so 
particularly  to  come  with  him  to  the  station.  Could  it 
be  for  the  matter  of  a  few  shilling  to  the  porter  ?  Or 
was  it  to  show  off  with  a  servant  at  his  heels?  Or  had 
he  thought  that  Fruen  would  be  pleased  to  have 
someone  she  knew  in  attendance?  If  the  last,  then 
he  was  greatly  mistaken ;  Fruen  started  in  evident 


204  WANDERERS 

displeasure  at  finding  me  here,  where  she  had  thought, 
perhaps,  to  be  safely  concealed.  I  heard  the  engineer 
say:  "I've  got  a  man  here,  he'll  take  your  luggage 
down.  Have  you  the  ticket  ?  "  But  I  made  no  sign 
of  greeting.  I  turned  away. 

And  afterwards  I  triumphed  over  him  in  my  miserable 
soul,  thinking  how  annoyed  she  would  be  with  him  for 
his  want  of  tact.  He  brought  up  with  him  a  man  who 
had  been  in  her  employ  when  she  had  a  home  ;  but 
that  man  had  some  delicacy  of  feeling,  he  turned  away, 
pretending  not  to  know  her  !  Lord  knows  what  the 
women  found  to  run  after  in  this  tight-waisted  youth 
with  the  heavy  contours  behind. 

There  are  fewer  people  on  the  platform  now  ;  the 
little  toy  waggons  are  rolled  away  and  shunted  about 
to  build  another  train  ;  at  last  we  are  left  with  the 
whole  place  to  ourselves.  Fruen  and  the  engineer 
stand  talking.  What  has  she  come  for?  Heaven 
knows  !  Young  Lovelace,  perhaps,  has  had  a  spasm 
of  longing  and  wants  her  again.  Or  is  she  come  of 
her  own  accord  to  tell  him  what  has  happened,  and 
ask  his  advice  ?  Like  as  not  the  end  of  it  will  be  they 
fix  things  up  and  get  married  some  day.  Mr.  Hugo 
Lassen  is,  of  course,  a  chivalrous  gentleman,  and  she 
his  one  and  only  love.  And  then  comes  the  time  when 
she  should  walk  on  roses  and  live  happily  ever  after ! 

"  No,  really,  it  would  never  do !  "  he  exclaims,  with  a 
laugh.  "  If  you  won't  be  my  aunt,  then  you'll  have  to 
be  my  cousin." 

"  S-sh  !  "  whispers  Fruen.  "Can't  you  get  rid  of 
that  man  there  ?  " 

Whereupon  the  engineer  comes  up  to  me  with  the 
luggage  receipt  in  his  hand,  and  in  his  lordliest 
manner,  as  an  Inspector  addressing  a  gang  of  lumber- 
men, he  says  : 

"  Bring  this  along  to  the  hotel." 


WANDERERS  205 

"  Very  good,"  I  answer,  touching  my  cap. 

I  carried  down  the  trunk,  thinking  as  I  went.  He 
had  actually  invited  her  to  pass  as  his  aunt !  Visibly 
older  she  might  be  than  he ;  still,  here  again  he  had 
shown  himself  wanting  in  tact.  I  would  not  have  said 
such  a  thing  myself.  I  would  have  declared  to  all  and 
sundry:  "  Behold,  here  is  come  a  bright  angel  to  visit 
King  Hugo  ;  see  how  young  and  beautiful  she  is  ; 
mark  the  slow,  heavy  turn  of  her  grey  eyes  ;  ay,  a 
weighty  glance  !  But  there  is  a  shimmer  of  sea-fire  in 
her  hair — I  love  her !  Mark  her,  too,  when  she  speaks, 
a  mouth  good  and  fine,  and  with  ever  and  again  a  little 
helpless  look  and  smile.  I  am  King  Hugo  this  day, 
and  she  is  my  love  !  " 

The  trunk  was  no  heavier  than  many  another  burden, 
but  there  were  bronzed  iron  bands  round,  and  one  of 
them  tore  a  hole  in  my  blouse  at  the  back.  So  I 
thanked  my  stars  I  had  not  worn  my  better  one  to 
spoil. 

VII 

Some  days  passed.  I  was  growing  tired  of  my 
empty  occupation,  which  consisted  in  doing  nothing 
but  loaf  about  the  place.  I  went  to  the  foreman  of  the 
gang  and  asked  him  to  take  me  on  as  a  lumberman, 
but  he  refused. 

These  gentlemen  of  the  proletariat  think  a  good  deal 
of  themselves  ;  they  look  down  on  farm-workers,  and 
will  have  nothing  to  do  with  them.  They  are  ever  on 
the  move,  going  from  one  waterway  to  another,  draw- 
ing their  wages  in  cash,  and  spending  a  fair  part  of 
the  same  in  drink.  Then,  too,  they  are  more  popular 
among  the  girls.  It  is  the  same  with  men  working  on 
roads  or  railways,  with  all  factory-hands  ;  even  the 
mechanic  is  looked  down  upon,  and  as  for  the  farm 
hand,  he  is  a  very  slave ! 


206  WANDERERS 

Now,  I  knew  I  could  be  pretty  sure  of  a  place  in  the 
gang  any  day  if  I  cared  to  ask  the  engineer.  But,  in 
the  first  place,  I  had  no  wish  to  be  further  indebted  to 
him,  and  in  the  second,  I  might  be  sure  that  if  I  did, 
my  friends  the  lumbermen  would  make  my  life  a  misery 
until  I  had  gone  through  all  the  trouble  of  making 
myself  respected  for  my  deserts.  And  that  might  take 
longer  than  I  cared  about. 

And  then  one  day  the  engineer  came  to  me  with 
instructions  that  I  was  to  observe  with  care.  He  spoke 
politely  and  sensibly  this  time  : 

"  We've  had  no  rain  for  a  long  time  now  ;  the  river's 
getting  steadily  lower,  and  the  logs  are  piling  up  on  the 
way  down.  I  want  you  to  tell  the  man  above  and  the 
one  below  to  be  extra  careful  about  their  work  just 
now,  and  you  yourself,  of  course,  will  do  the  same." 

"  We're  sure  to  get  rain  before  long,"  I  said,  for  the 
sake  of  saying  something. 

''That  may  be,"  he  answered,  with  the  intense 
earnestness  of  youth,  "  but  I  must  act  all  the  same  as 
if  there  were  never  to  be  rain  again.  Now  remember 
every  word  I've  said.  I  can't  be  everywhere  at  once 
myself,  more  especially  now  that  I've  a  visitor." 

I  answered  him  with  a  face  as  serious  as  his  own 
that  I  would  do  my  very  best. 

So  I  was  still  bound  to  my  idling  occupation  after 
all,  and  wandered  up  and  down  the  river  as  before  with 
my  boat-hook  and  my  rations.  For  my  own  satisfaction 
I  cleared  away  bigger  and  bigger  jams  unaided,  sang 
to  myself  as  if  I  were  a  whole  gang,  and  worked  hard 
enough  for  many  men  ;  also  I  carried  the  new  instruc- 
tions to  Grindhusen,  and  frightened  him  properly. 

But  then  came  the  rain. 

And  now  the  sticks  went  dancing  down  through 
channel  and  rapids,  like  huge,  pale  serpents  hurrying, 
hurrying  on,  now  head,  now  tail  in  air. 


WANDERERS  207 

Easy  days  these  for  my  engineer  ! 
For  myself,  I  was  ill  at  ease  in  the  town  and  in  my 
lodging  there.  I  had  a  little  room  to  myself,  but  one 
could  hear  every  sound  in  the  place,  and  there  was 
little  rest  or  comfort.  Moreover,  I  found  myself  out- 
done in  everything  by  the  young  lumbermen  who  lodged 
there. 

I  patrolled  the  river-bank  regularly  those  days, 
though  there  was  little  or  nothing  for  me  to  do  there. 
1  would  steal  away  and  sit  in  hiding  under  an  over- 
hanging rock,  hugging  the  thought  of  how  I  was  old, 
and  forsaken  by  all  ;  in  the  evenings  I  wrote  many 
letters  to  people  I  knew,  just  to  have  someone  to  talk 
to  ;  but  I  did  not  send  the  letters.  Joyless  days  were 
these.  My  chief  pleasure  was  to  go  about  noticing 
every  little  trifle  in  the  town,  wherever  it  might  be,  and 
thinking  a  little  upon  each. 

But  was  my  engineer  so  free  from  care  ?  I  began  to 
doubt  it. 

Why  was  he  no  longer  to  be  seen  out  early  and  late 
with  this  new  cousin  of  his  ?  He  would  even  stop 
another  young  lady  on  the  bridge  and  pass  the  time  of 
day — a  thing  he  had  not  done  this  fortnight  gone.  I 
had  seen  him  with  Fru  Falkenberg  once  or  twice  ;  she 
looked  so  young  and  prettily  dressed,  and  happy — a 
little  reckless,  laughing  out  loud.  That's  what  it's 
like  when  a  woman  first  steps  aside,  I  thought  to 
myself ;  but  to-morrow  or  the  day  after  it  may  be 
different !  And  when  I  saw  her  again  later  on  I  was 
annoyed  with  her  ;  there  was  something  overbold  about 
her  dress  and  manner,  the  old  charm  and  sweetness 
were  gone.  Where  was  the  tenderness  now  in  her 
eyes?  Nothing  but  bravado  !  And  furiously  I  told 
myself  that  her  eyes  shone  like  a  pair  of  lamps  at  the 
door  of  a  music  hall. 

By  the  look  of  things  the  couple  had  begun  to  weary 


208  WANDERERS 

of  each  other,  since  he  had  taken  to  going  out  alone, 
and  she  spent  much  of  her  time  sitting  looking  out  of 
the  window  in  the  hotel.  And  this,  no  doubt,  was  why 
stout  Captain  Bror  made  his  appearance  once  again  ; 
his  mission  was  perhaps  to  bring  jollity  and  mirth  to 
others  besides  himself.  And  this  jovial  lump  of  de- 
formity certainly  did  his  best ;  his  guffaws  of  laughter 
rang  through  the  little  town  one  whole  night  long. 
Then  his  leave  expired,  and  he  had  to  go  back  to  drill 
and  duty — Fru  Falkenberg  and  her  Hugo  were  left  to 
themselves  once  more. 

One  day,  while  I  was  in  a  shop,  I  heard  that  there 
had  been  some  slight  difference  of  opinion  between 
Engineer  Lassen  and  his  cousin.  A  commercial  tra- 
veller was  telling  the  shopkeeper  all  about  it.  But  so 
great  was  the  general  respect  for  the  wealthy  engineer 
throughout  the  town  that  the  shopman  would  hardly 
believe  the  story,  and  questioned  the  scandal- monger 
doubtingly. 

"  It  must  have  been  in  fun,  I'm  sure.  Did  you  hear 
it  yourself?  When  was  it  ?  " 

The  traveller  himself  did  not  dare  to  make  more  of  it. 

"My  room's  next  to  his,"  he  said,  "so  I  couldn't 
help  hearing  it  last  night.  They  were  arguing  ;  I  don't 
say  it  was  a  quarrel — lord,  no !  as  delicate  as  could  be. 
She  only  said  he  was  different  now  from  what  he  had 
been  ;  that  he'd  changed  somehow.  And  he  said  it 
wasn't  his  fault,  he  couldn't  do  as  he  liked  here  in  town. 
Then  she  asked  him  to  get  rid  of  somebody  she  didn't 
like — one  of  his  men,  a  lumberman,  I  suppose.  And 
he  promised  he  would." 

"  Well,  there  you  are — just  nothing  at  all,"  said  the 
shopkeeper. 

But  the  traveller  had  heard  more,  I  fancy,  than  he 
cared  to  say.  I  could  tell  as  much  by  his  looks. 

And  had  I  not  noticed  myself  how  the  engineer  had 


WANDERERS  209 

changed  ?  He  had  talked  out  loud  so  cheerfully  at  the 
station  that  first  day  ;  now  he  could  be  obstinately 
silent  when  he  did  go  so  far  as  to  take  Fruen  for  a  walk 
down  to  the  bridge.  I  could  see  well  enough  how  they 
stood  looking  each  their  separate  ways.  Lord  God  in 
heaven,  but  love  is  a  fleeting  thing  ! 

All  went  well  enough  at  first.  She  said,  no  doubt, 
that  it  was  quite  a  nice  little  place,  with  the  great  big 
river  and  the  rapids,  and  so  strang'e  to  hear  the  roar  of 
the  waters  all  the  time  ;  and  here  was  a  real  little  town 
with  streets  and  people  in — "  And  then  you  here,  too  !  " 
And  he,  of  course,  would  answer:  "Yes,  and  you!  " 
Oh,  they  were  everything  to  each  other  at  first !  But 
then  they  grew  weary  of  good  things  ;  they  took  too 
much — took  love  in  handfuls,  such  was  their  foolish- 
ness. And  more  and  more  clearly  he  realised  that 
things  were  getting  awry  ;  the  town  was  such  a  little 
place,  and  this  cousin  of  his  a  stranger — he  could  not 
keep  on  being  her  attendant  squire  for  ever.  No,  they 
must  ease  off  a  little  gradually  ;  now  and  then,  perhaps 
— only  occasionally,  of  course — it  would  be  as  well  to 
have  their  meals  at  different  times.  If  not,  some  of 
those  commercial  travellers  would  be  getting  ideas  into 
their  heads  about  the  loving  cousins.  Remember,  in  a 
little  place  like  this — and  she  .  .  .  how  could  she 
understand  it  ?  A  little  place — yes,  but  surely  it  was 
no  smaller  now  than  it  had  been  at  first  ?  No,  no,  my 
friend,  it  is  you  that  have  changed  ! 

There  had  been  plenty  of  rain,  and  the  timber  was 
coming  down  beautifully.  Nevertheless,  the  engineer 
took  to  going  off  on  little  trips  up  or  down  the  river. 
It  seemed  as  if  he  were  glad  to  get  away  ;  he  looked 
worried  and  miserable  altogether  now. 

One  day  he  asked  me  to  go  up  and  tell  Grindhusen 
to  come  in  to  town.  Was  it  Grindhusen,  I  wondered, 
14 


210  WANDERERS 

that  was  to  be  dismissed?  But  Fruen  had  never  so 
much  as  set  eyes  on  Grindhusen  since  she  came  ;  what 
could  he  have  done  to  offend  her  ? 

I  fetched  Grindhusen  in  accordingly.  He  went  up  to 
the  hotel  at  once  to  report,  and  the  engineer  put  on  his 
things  and  went  out  with  him.  They  set  off  up  river 
and  disappeared. 

Later  in  the  day  Grindhusen  came  to  my  lodging, 
and  was  ready  enough  to  tell,  but  I  asked  him  nothing. 
In  the  evening  the  lumbermen  gave  him  Brcendevin, 
and  the  spirit  loosened  his  tongue.  What  about  this 
cousin,  or  something,  engineer  had  got  with  him  ?  How 
much  longer  was  she  going  to  stay  ?  As  to  this,  nobody 
could  say;  and,  anyhow,  why  shouldn't  she  stay? 
"'Tis  naught  but  fooling  and  trouble  with  such-like 
cousin  business,"  Grindhusen  declared.  "  Why  couldn't 
he  bring  along  the  girl  he's  going  to  marry? — and  I 
told  him  so  to  his  face." 

"  You  told  him  ?  "  asked  one  of  the  men. 

"Ay,  I  did  that.  You  may  not  know  it,  but  Inspector 
and  I  we  sit  there  talking  as  it  might  be  me  and  you," 
said  Grindhusen,  looking  mighty  big  and  proud.  "What 
d'you  suppose  he  sent  to  fetch  me  for?  You'd  never 
guess  if  you  sat  there  all  night.  Why,  he  sent  for  me 
just  to  have  a  talk  over  things.  Not  that  there's  any- 
thing new  or  strange  about  that ;  he's  done  the  same 
before  now  ;  but,  anyhow,  that's  what  it  was." 

"  What'd  he  want  to  talk  to  you  about?"  asked 
one. 

Grindhusen  swelled,  and  was  not  to  be  drawn  at  once. 
"  Eh,  I'm  not  such  a  fool,  but  I  know  how  to  talk  with 
a  man.  And  it's  not  my  way  to  be  contrary  neither. 
4  You  know  a  thing  or  two,  Grindhusen,'  says  the 
Inspector,  '  and  there's  two  Kroner  for  you,'  says  he. 
Ay,  that's  what  he  said.  And  if  you  don't  believe  me, 
why,  here's  the  money,  and  you  can  see.  There !  " 


WANDERERS  211 

"  But  what  was  it  all  about?"  asked  several  voices 
at  once. 

"  He'd  better  not  say,  if  you  ask  me,"  I  said. 

It  struck  me  that  the  engineer  must  have  been  miser- 
able and  desperate  when  he  sent  me  to  fetch  Grind- 
husen.  He  was  so  little  used  to  trouble  that  the 
moment  anything  went  wrong  he  felt  the  need  of  some- 
one to  confide  in.  And  now  when  he  was  going  about 
day  after  day,  thoroughly  disheartened  and  full  of  pity 
for  himself,  as  if  he  wanted  everyone  to  know  how 
miserable  he  was  at  being  checked  in  his  play.  This 
sportsman,  with  his  figure  moulded  in  the  wrong  place, 
was  a  travesty  of  youth,  a  Spartan  in  tears.  What 
sort  of  upbringing  could  his  have  beqn  ? 

Ah,  well,  if  he  had  been  an  old  man  I  had  found 
reason  and  excuse  for  him  enough  ;  if  the  truth  were 
known,  it  was  perhaps  but  hatred  of  his  youth  that 
moved  me  now.  Who  can  say  ?  But  I  know  I  looked 
upon  him  as  a  travesty,  a  caricature. 

Grindhusen  stared  at  me  when  I  had  spoken  my  few 
words  ;  the  others,  too,  looked  wonderingly. 

"  I'll  not  say  but  it  might  be  better  not,"  said 
Grindhusen  submissively. 

But  the  men  were  not  to  be  put  off. 

"And  why  shouldn't  he  tell?  We're  not  going  to 
let  it  go  farther." 

"No,  that  we  shan't,"  said  another.  "But  you 
might  be  one  of  that  sort  yourself,  and  go  telling  tales 
to  the  Inspector." 

Grindhusen  took  courage  at  this,  and  said : 

"I'll  say  what  I  like,  so  don't  you  trouble  yourself! 
Tell  just  as  much  as  I  please.  For  I'm  saying  no 
more  than's  true.  And  in  case  you'd  care  to  know, 
I  can  tell  you  the  Inspector's  got  a  word  to  say  to  you 
very  soon.  Ay,  that  he  has,  or  hearing  goes  for  nothing. 
So  you've  no  call  to  be  anyway  stuck  up  yourself.  And 


212  WANDERERS 

as  for  me  telling  or  not  telling  things,  I'm  saying  never 
a  thing  but  what's  the  truth.  Just  remember  that. 
And  if  you  knew  as  much  as  I  do,  she's  nothing  but 
a  plague  and  a  burden  to  him  all  the  time,  and  won't 
let  him  out  of  her  sight.  D'you  call  that  cousins, 
going  on  like  that  ?  " 

"  Nay,  surely  ;  nay,  surely ! "  said  the  men  en- 
couragingly. 

"What  d'you  think  he  sent  for  me  about?  Ay, 
there's  the  pretty  fellow  he  sent  up  with  the  message  ! 
But  there'll  be  a  message  for  him  one  of  these  days : 
I  gathered  as  much  from  the  Inspector  himself.  I'll 
say  no  more  than  that.  And  as  for  me  telling  things, 
here's  Inspector's  been  like  a  father  to  me,  and  I'd  be 
a  stock  and  a  stone  to  say  otherwise.  '  I'm  all  upset 
and  worried  these  days,  Grindhusen,'  says  he  to  me. 
'  And  what's  a  man  to  do  ;  can  you  tell  me  that  now  ?  ' 
'  No,'  says  I,  '  but  Inspector  knows  himself,'  says  I. 
Those  very  words  I  said.  '  I  wish  to  Heaven  I  did,' 
says  he  again.  '  But  it's  all  these  wretched  women,' 
says  he.  '  If  it's  women,'  says  I,  '  why,  there's  no 
doing  anything  with  them,'  says  I.  '  No,  indeed, 
you're  right  there  ! '  says  he.  '  The  only  way's  to 
give  them  what  they  were  made  for,  and  a  good  round 
slap  on  the  backside  into  the  bargain,'  says  I.  'By 
Heaven,  I  believe  you're  right  there,  Grindhusen,'  says 
the  Inspector,  and  he  brightened  up  no  end.  I've 
never  seen  a  man  so  brightened  up  and  cheerful  just 
for  a  word  or  so.  It  was  a  sight  to  see.  And  you  can 
take  and  drown  me  if  it  isn't  gospel  truth  every  single 
bit  I've  said.  I  sat  there  just  as  I'm  sitting  now,  and 
Inspector  as  it  might  be  there.  ..." 

And  Grindhusen  rambled  on. 

Next  morning  early,  before  it  was  fairly  light, 
Engineer  Lassen  stopped  me  in  the  street.  It  was 


WANDERERS  2 1 3 

only  half-past  three.  I  was  all  fitted  out  for  a  tramp 
up  the  river,  with  my  boat-hook  and  a  store  of  food. 
Grindhusen  was  having  a  drinking-bout  in  town,  and 
I  was  going  to  do  his  beat  as  well  as  my  own.  That 
would  take  me  right  up  to  the  top  of  the  hills,  and 
I  had  packed  a  double  stock  of  food  accordingly. 

The  engineer  was  evidently  coming  down  from  a 
party  somewhere  ;  he  was  laughing  and  talking  loudly 
with  a  couple  of  other  men,  all  of  them  more  or  less 
drunk. 

"Go  on  ahead  a  bit,"  he  said  to  the  others.  And 
then,  turning  to  me,  he  asked:  "Where  are  you 
off  to  ?  " 

I  told  him  what  I  had  in  mind. 

"H'm!  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  he.  "No, 
I  think  you'd  better  not.  Grindhusen  can  manage  all 
right  by  himself.  And,  besides,  I'm  going  to  inspect 
myself.  You've  no  business  to  go  off  doing  things 
like  that  without  asking  me  first." 

Well,  he  was  right,  of  course,  so  far  as  that  went, 
and  I  begged  his  pardon.  And,  indeed,  knowing  as 
I  did  how  he  was  set  on  playing  the  master  and  lording 
it  over  his  men,  I  might  have  had  more  sense. 

But  begging  his  pardon  only  seemed  to  egg  him  on  ; 
he  felt  deeply  injured,  and  grew  quite  excited  over  it, 

"I'll  have  no  more  of  this!"  he  said.  "My  men 
are  here  to  carry  out  my  orders  ;  that's  all  they've  got 
to  do.  I  took  you  on  to  give  you  a  chance,  not  because 
I'd  any  use  for  you  myself.  And  I've  no  use  for  you 
now,  anyhow." 

I  stood  there  staring  at  him,  and  said  never  a  word. 

"You  can  come  round  to  the  office  to-day  and  get 
your  wages,"  he  went  on.  And  then  he  turned  to  go. 

So  I  was  the  one  to  be  dismissed  !  Now  I  under- 
stood what  Grindhusen  had  meant  with  his  hints  about 
me.  Fru  Falkenberg,  no  doubt,  had  come  to  hate  the 


214  WANDERERS 

sight  of  me  by  now,  reminding  her,  as  it  must,  of  her 
home,  and  so  she  had  got  him  to  turn  me  off.  But  hadn't 
I  been  the  very  one  to  show  delicacy  of  feeling  towards 
her  at  the  station,  turning  away  instead  of  recognising 
her?  Had  I  ever  so  much  as  lifted  my  cap  to  her 
when  I  passed  her  in  the  street?  Surely  I  had  been 
considerate  enough  to  deserve  consideration  in  return  ? 

And  now — here  was  this  young  engineer  turning  me 
off  at  a  moment's  notice,  and  that  with  unnecessary 
vehemence.  I  saw  it  all  in  my  mind :  he  had  been 
worrying  himself  for  days  over  this  dismissal,  shirking 
it  all  the  time,  until  at  last  he  managed  to  screw  his 
courage  up  by  drinking  hard  all  night.  Was  I  doing 
him  an  injustice  ?  It  might  be  so  ;  and  I  tried  to 
combat  the  thought  myself.  Once  more  I  called  to 
mind  that  he  was  young  and  I  was  old,  and  my  heart, 
no  doubt,  full  of  envy  on  that  account.  So  I  gave  him 
no  sarcastic  answer  now,  but  simply  said  : 

"Ay,  well,  then,  I  can  unpack  the  things  I  was 
taking  along." 

But  the  engineer  was  anxious  to  make  the  most  of 
his  chance  now  he  was  fairly  started  ;  he  dragged  in 
the  old  story  about  the  time  he'd  wanted  me  to  go 
and  fetch  a  trunk. 

"When  I  give  an  order,  I  don't  expect  the  man  to 
turn  round  and  say  no,  he  won't.  I'm  not  used  to  that 
sort  of  thing.  And  as  there's  no  knowing  it  may  not 
occur  again,  you'd  better  go." 

"  Well  and  good,"  said  I. 

I  saw  a  figure  in  a  white  dress  at  a  window  in  the 
hotel,  and  fancied  it  must  be  Fru  Falkenberg  watching 
us,  so  I  said  no  more. 

But  then  the  engineer  seemed  suddenly  to  remember 
that  he  couldn't  get  rid  of  me  once  and  for  all  on  the 
spot ;  he  would  have  to  see  me  again  to  settle  up.  So 
he  changed  his  tone  and  said:  "Well,  anyhow,  come 


WANDERERS  2 1 5 

up  sometime  to-day  and  get  your  money.  Have  you 
thought  over  how  much  it  ought  to  be?  " 

"  No.     That'll  be  for  engineer  himself  to  decide." 

"Well,  well,"  he  said  in  a  kindlier  voice,  "  after  all, 
you've  been  a  good  man  to  have,  I  will  say  that  for 
you.  But,  for  various  reasons— and  it's  not  only  for 
myself:  you  know  what  women — that  is,  I  mean,  the 
ladies " 

Oh,  but  he  was  young  indeed.  He  stopped  at 
nothing. 

"  Well — good  morning  !  "  He  nodded  abruptly,  and 
turned  away. 

But  the  day  proved  all  too  short  for  me ;  I  went  up 
into  the  woods,  and  stayed  roaming  about  there  all  by 
myself  so  long  that  I  didn't  get  to  the  office  to  draw 
my  money.  Well,  there  was  no  hurry  ;  I  had  plenty 
of  time. 

What  was  I  to  do  now  ? 

I  had  not  cared  much  for  the  little  town  before,  but 
now  it  began  to  interest  me ;  I  would  gladly  have 
stayed  on  a  while.  There  were  complications  arising 
between  two  people  whom  I  had  been  following  atten- 
tively for  some  weeks  past ;  something  fresh  might 
happen  any  moment  now,  there  was  no  saying.  I 
thought  of  going  as  apprentice  to  a  blacksmith,  just 
for  the  sake  of  staying  in  the  place,  but  then,  if  I  did, 
I  should  be  tied  to  the  smithy  all  day  and  hampered 
in  my  movements  altogether ;  apart  from  which,  the 
apprenticeship  would  take  too  many  years  of  my  life. 
And  years  were  the  thing  I  least  of  all  could  spare. 

So  I  let  the  days  pass,  one  after  another ;  the 
weather  changed  round  again  to  dry,  sunny  days. 
I  stayed  on  at  the  lodging-house,  mended  my  clothes, 
and  got  some  new  ones  made  at  a  shop.  One  of  the 
maids  in  the  house  came  up  one  evening  and  offered  to 


216  WANDERERS 

do  some  mending  for  me,  but  I  was  more  in  the  mood 
for  fooling",  and  showed  her  how  well  I  managed  the 
work  myself. 

"Look  at  that  patch,  there,  now  —  and  that!" 
After  a  while  a  man  came  up  the  stairs  and  tried 
the  door.  "  Open,  you  in  there  !  "  he  said. 

"  It's  Henrik,  one  of  the  lumbermen,"  said  the  girl. 

"Is  he  your  sweetheart?  "  I  asked. 

"No,  indeed,  I  should  think  not,"  she  answered. 
"  I'd  rather  go  without  than  have  a  fellow  like  him." 

"  Open  the  door,  d'you  hear!"  cried  the  man  outside 
But  the  girl  was  not  frightened  in  the  least.  "  Let 
him  stay  outside,"  she  said.  And  we  let  him  stay 
outside.  But  that  door  of  mine  bent  inwards  in  a 
great  curve  every  now  and  then,  when  he  pushed  his 
hardest. 

At  last,  when  we'd  finished  making  fun  about  my 
needlework  and  her  sweethearts,  I  had  to  go  out  and 
see  the  passage  was  clear  before  she  would  venture 
downstairs.  But  there  was  no  man  there. 

It  was  late  now;  I  went  down  to  the  parlour  for 
a  bit,  and  there  was  Grindhusen  drinking  with  some  of 
the  gang.  "There  he  is!"  said  one  of  them,  as  I 
came  in.  It  was  Henrik  who  spoke  ;  he  was  trying 
to  get  his  mates  against  me.  Grindhusen,  too,  sided 
with  the  rest  of  them,  and  tried  all  he  could  to 
annoy  me. 

Poor  Grindhusen !  He  was  stale-drunk  all  the  time 
now,  and  couldn't  get  clear  of  it.  He  had  had  another 
meeting  with  Engineer  Lassen  ;  they  had  walked  up 
the  river  as  before  and  sat  talking  for  an  hour,  and 
when  Grindhusen  came  back  he  showed  a  new  two- 
Kroner  piece  he'd  got.  Then  he  went  on  the  drink 
again,  and  gabbled  about  being  in  the  engineer's 
confidence.  This  evening,  too,  he  was  all  high-and- 
mightiness,  not  to  be  outdone  by  anybody. 


WANDERERS  217 

"  Come  in  and  sit  down,"  he  said  to  me. 

But  one  or  two  of  the  other  men  demurred  ;  they 
would  have  nothing  to  do  with  me.  And  at  this  Grind- 
husen  changed  front ;  for  sheer  devilment  he  fell  to 
again  about  the  engineer  and  his  cousin,  knowing  it 
would  annoy  me. 

"Well,  has  he  turned  you  off?"  he  asked,  with  a 
side  glance  at  the  others,  as  if  to  bid  them  watch  what 
was  coming. 

"Yes,"  said  I. 

"Aha!  I  knew  all  about  it  days  ago,  but  I  never 
said  a  word.  I  don't  mind  saying  I  knew  about  it 
before  any  other  single  soul  in  the  world  of  us  here, 
but  did  I  ever  breathe  a  word  of  it?  Inspector  he 
says  to  me  :  '  I  want  to  ask  you  something,  Grindhusen,' 
says  he,  '  and  that  is,  if  you'll  come  down  and  work  in 
the  town  instead  of  the  man  I've  got  there  now.  I 
want  to  get  rid  of  him,'  says  he.  '  Why,  as  to  that,' 
says  I,  'it's  just  as  Inspector's  pleased  to  command.' 
That  was  my  very  words,  and  neither  more  nor  less. 
But  did  I  ever  breathe  a  syllable?  " 

"Has  he  turned  you  off?"  asked  one  of  the  other 
men  then. 

"Yes,"  I  answered. 

"  But  as  for  that  cousin  of  his,"  Grindhusen  went  on, 
"  he  asked  me  about  her,  too.  Ay,  Inspector  he  asks 
my  advice  about  all  sorts  of  things.  And  now,  this  last 
time  we  were  up  river  together,  he  slapped  his  knee 
when  he  talked  of  her.  So  there.  And  you  can  guess 
for  yourselves  till  to-morrow  morning  if  you  like. 
Everything  of  the  best  to  eat  and  drink  and  every  way, 
and  costing  a  heap  of  money  each  week  ;  but  she  stays 
on  and  on.  Fie  and  for  shame,  say  I,  and  I  mean  it 
too." 

But  now  it  seemed  as  if  the  scale  had  turned  in  my 
favour  at  the  news  of  my  dismissal  ;  some  of  the  men 


2 1 8  WANDERERS 

perhaps  felt  sorry  for  me,  others  were  glad  to  learn 
that  I  was  going.  One  of  them  offered  me  a  drink 
from  his  own  bottle,  and  called  to  the  maid  for 
"another  glass — a  clean  one,  you  understand  !  "  Even 
Henrik  no  longer  bore  me  any  grudge,  but  drank  with 
me  and  was  friendly  enough.  And  we  sat  there  gossip- 
ing over  our  glasses  quite  a  while. 

"  But  you'd  better  go  up  and  see  about  that  money 
of  yours,"  said  Grindhusen.  "  For  from  what  I've 
heard,  I  don't  fancy  you'll  get  the  Inspector  to  come 
down  here  with  it  after  you.  He  said  as  much. 
'There's  money  owing  to  him,'  that  was  what  he  said, 
'  but  if  he  thinks  I'm  going  to  run  after  him  with  it, 
you  can  tell  him  it's  here,'  he  said." 

VIII 

But  the  engineer  did  come  down  after  me,  as  it 
turned  out,  though  it  was  queer  it  should  be  so. 
Anyhow,  it  was  a  triumph  I  had  not  sought,  and  I 
cared  nothing  for  it. 

He  came  to  the  lodging-house  to  see  me,  and  said : 
"  I  want  you  to  come  back  with  me,  if  you  please,  and 
get  your  money.  And  there's  a  letter  come  for  you  by 
the  post." 

When  we  stepped  into  the  office,  Fru    Falkenberg 
was  there.      I  was  taken  aback  at  finding  her  there 
I  made  a  bow  and  stood  over  by  the  door. 

"  Sit  down,  won't  you?  "  said  the  engineer,  going  to 
the  table  for  my  letter.  "Here  you  are.  No,  sit 
down  and  read  your  letter  while  I'm  reckoning  up 
your  pay." 

And  Fru  Falkenberg  herself  motioned  me  to  a 
chair. 

Now,  what  were  they  looking  so  anxious  about  ? 
And  what  was  the  meaning  of  this  sudden  politeness 


WANDERERS  219 

and  "  Won't  you  sit  down?  "  and  all  the  rest?  I  had 
not  to  wait  long  to  find  out :  the  letter  was  from 
Captain  Falkenberg. 

"  Here,  you  can  use  this,"  said  Fruen  very  obligingly, 
handing  me  a  letter-opener. 

A  simple,  ordinary  letter,  nothing  more  ;  indeed,  it 
began  almost  jestingly :  I  had  run  away  from  0vreb0 
before  he  knew  I  was  going,  and  hadn't  even  waited 
for  my  money.  If  I  imagined  he  was  in  difficulties  and 
would  not  be  able  to  pay  me  before  the  harvest  was  in 
—if  that  was  why  I  had  left  in  such  a  hurry,  why,  he 
hoped  I  had  found  out  I  was  mistaken.  And  now  he 
would  be  very  glad  if  I  would  come  back  and  work  for 
him  if  I  wasn't  fixed  up  elsewhere.  The  house  and 
outbuildings  wanted  painting,  then  there  would  be  the 
harvesting,  and,  after  that,  he  would  like  to  have  me 
for  work  among  the  timber.  Everything  looking  well 
here,  fields  nice  and  tall,  meadows  nice  and  thick. 
Glad  to  hear  as  soon  as  you  can  in  answer  to  this. — 
Yours,  FALKENBERG. 

The  engineer  had  finished  his  reckoning.  He  turned 
on  his  chair  and  looked  over  at  the  wall.  Then,  as  if 
suddenly  remembering  something,  he  turned  sharply  to 
the  table  again.  Nervousness,  that  was  all.  Fruen 
stood  looking  at  her  rings,  but  I  had  a  feeling  she 
was  stealthily  watching  me  all  the  time— thoroughly 
nervous,  the  pair  of  them  ! 

Then  said  the  engineer  : 

"Oh,  by  the  way,  I  noticed  your  letter  was  from 
Captain  Falkenberg.  How  are  things  going  there  ?  I 
knew  the  writing  at  once." 

"Would  you  like  to  read  the  letter?"  I  said 
promptly,  offering  it  as  I  spoke. 

"  No— oh  no.  Thanks,  all  the  same.  Not  in  the 
least.  I  was  only  ..." 

But  he  took  the  letter,  all  the  same.     And  Fruen 


220  WANDERERS 

came  across  to  him  and  stood  looking  over  his  shoulder 
as  he  read. 

"  H'm !  "  said  the  engineer,  with  a  nod.  "  Everything 
going  on  nicely,  it  seems.  Thanks."  And  he  held 
out  the  letter  to  give  it  back. 

Fruen's  manner  was  different.  She  took  the  letter 
from  him  and  began  studying  it  herself.  Her  hand 
shook  a  little. 

"  Well,  now,  about  the  money,"  said  the  engineer. 
"  Here  you  are  ;  that's  what  I  make  it.  I  hope  you're 
satisfied  all  right  ?  " 

"  Yes,  thank  you,"  said  I. 

He  seemed  relieved  to  find  that  Captain  Falkenberg's 
letter  was  only  about  myself  and  made  no  mention  of 
anyone  else.  And  again  he  tried  to  soften  down  my 
dismissal. 

"  Well,  well,"  he  said.  "  But  if  you  should  happen 
to  be  in  these  parts  any  time,  you  know  where  to  find 
me.  We've  all  but  finished  now  for  this  year — there's 
been  too  much  drought  just  lately." 

Fruen  was  still  holding  the  letter.  Then  I  saw  she 
had  finished  reading,  for  her  eyes  never  moved  ;  but 
she  stood  there,  staring  at  the  letter,  thinking.  What 
was  in  her  mind,  I  wondered  ? 

The  engineer  glanced  at  her  impatiently. 

"Are  you  learning  it  off  by  heart?  "  he  said,  with  a 
half-smile.  "Come,  dear,  he's  waiting." 

"Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Fruen  quickly.  "  I 
forgot."  And  she  handed  me  the  letter. 

"  So  it  seems,"  observed  the  engineer. 

I  bowed,  and  went  out. 

On  a  summer  evening  the  bridge  is  crowded  with 
people  out  walking — school  teachers  and  tradespeople, 
young  girls  and  children.  I  watch  my  time  when  it  is 
getting  late,  and  the  bridge  is  deserted  ;  then  I  can 


WANDERERS  221 

lounge  over  that  way  myself,  and  stay  for  an  hour  or 
so  in  the  midst  of  the  roar.  No  need  to  do  anything 
really  but  listen  ;  only  my  brain  is  so  over-rested  with 
idleness  and  good  sound  sleep,  it  finds  no  end  of  things 
to  busy  itself  about.  Last  evening  I  determined  in  all 
seriousness  to  go  to  Fru  Falkenberg  and  say:  "Go 
away  from  here,  Frue  ;  leave  by  the  first  train  that 
goes."  To-day  I  have  been  calling  myself  a  fool  for 
entertaining  such  a  ridiculous  thought,  and  set  in  its 
place  another:  "Get  out  of  this  yourself,  my  good 
man,  by  the  first  train  that  goes.  Are  you  her  equal, 
her  adviser  ?  Very  well,  then  ;  see  that  what  you  do  is 
not  too  utterly  at  variance  with  what  you  are !  " 

And  this  evening  I  am  still  treating  myself  as  I 
deserve.  I  fall  to  humming  a  little  tune,  but  can 
scarcely  hear  it  myself ;  the  sound  is  crushed  to  death 
in  the  roar  of  the  water.  "That's  right,"  I  say  to 
myself  scornfully.  "  You  ought  always  to  stand  by  a 
deafening  water  when  you  feel  like  humming  a  tune." 
And  I  laugh  at  myself  again.  With  such-like  childish 
fancies  do  I  pass  the  time. 

The  noise  of  the  rapids  anywhere  inland  is  as  useful 
to  the  ear  as  the  noise  of  breakers  on  the  shore.  But 
the  voice  of  the  breakers  is  louder  and  fainter  by  turns. 
The  roar  of  waters  in  a  river-bed  is  like  an  audible 
fog,  a  monotony  of  sound  beyond  reason,  contrary  to 
all  sense,  a  miracle  of  idiocy.  "What  is  the  time,  do 
you  know?"  "Yes,  isn't  it?"  "Day  or  night?" 
"  Yes  !  "  As  if  someone  had  laid  a  stone  on  six  keys 
of  an  organ,  and  walked  off  and  left  it  there. 

With  such  childish  fancies  do  I  while  away  the  time. 

"  Godaften!"  says  Fru  Falkenberg,  and  there  she 
is  beside  me. 

I  hardly  felt  surprised  ;  it  was  almost  as  if  I  had 
expected  her.  After  her  behaviour  with  her  husband's 
letter,  she  might  well  go  a  little  farther. 


222  WANDERERS 

Now  I  could  think  two  ways  about  her  coming" : 
either  she  had  turned  thoroughly  sentimental  at  being 
reminded  so  directly  of  her  home  once  more,  or  she 
wanted  to  make  her  engineer  jealous  ;  he  might 
perhaps  be  watching  us  from  his  window  that  very 
moment,  and  I  had  been  sent  for  to  go  back  to  0vreb0. 
Possibly  she  was  thoroughly  calculating,  and  had  been 
trying  to  work  on  his  jealousy  even  yesterday,  when 
she  studied  the  letter  so  attentively. 

It  seemed,  however,  that  none  of  my  clever  theories 
was  to  be  confirmed.  It  was  me  she  wanted  to  see, 
and  that  only  to  make  a  sort  of  apology  for  getting 
me  dismissed.  That  she  should  ever  care  about  such 
a  trifle !  Was  she  so  incapable  of  thinking  seriously 
that  she  could  not  see  what  a  miserable  position  she 
herself  was  in  ?  What  in  the  devil's  name  had  she  to 
do  with  my  affairs  ? 

I  had  thought  to  say  a  brief  word  or  so  and  point 
to  the  train,  but  something  made  me  gentle,  as  if  I 
were  dealing  with  an  irresponsible,  a  child. 

"You'll  be  going  back  to  0vreb0  now,  I  suppose?" 
she  said.  "And  I  thought  I'd  like  .  .  .  H'm !  .  .  . 
You're  sorry  to  be  leaving  here,  perhaps  ?  No  ?  No, 
no,  of  course  not.  But  I  must  tell  you  something :  It 
was  I  that  got  you  dismissed." 

"It  doesn't  matter." 

"  No,  no.  Only,  I  wanted  to  tell  you.  Now  that 
you're  going  back  to  0vreb0.  You  can  understand  it 
was  a  little  unpleasant  for  me  at  times  to  .  .  ." 

She  checked  herself. 

"To  have  me  about  the  place.  Yes,  it  would  be 
unpleasant." 

"To  see  you  here.  A  little  unpleasant;  I  mean, 
because  you  knew  about  me  before.  So  I  asked  the 
engineer  if  he  couldn't  send  you  away.  Not  that  he 
wanted  to  himself,  you  understand.  Quite  the  reverse, 


WANDERERS  223 

in  fact,  but  he  did  at  last.      I'm  glad  you're  goine 
back  to  Ovrebo." 

"So?"  said  I.  "But  when  Fruen  comes  home 
again  surely  it  will  be  just  as  unpleasant  to  see  me 
then?" 

"  Home ?  "  she  repeated.     "  I'm  not  going  home." 
Pause.     She  had  frowned  as  she  spoke.      But  now 

she  nodded,  and  even  smiled  a  little,  and  turned  to  go. 
•'  Well,    well,    you'll    pardon    me,    then,    I    know  " 

she  said. 

"  Have  you  any  objection  to  my  going  back  to 
Captain  Falkenberg  ?  "  I  asked. 

She  stopped,  and  looked  me  full  in  the  face.  Now 
what  was  the  right  thing  here?  Three  times  she  had 
spoken  of  0vrebo.  Was  it  with  the  idea  that  I  might 
put  in  a  word  for  her  if  opportunity  offered,  when  I 
got  back  there  ?  Or  was  she  unwilling  to  ask  of  me  as 
a  favour  not  to  go  ? 

"No,  no,  indeed  I've  not!"  she  answered.  "Go 
there,  by  all  means." 

And  she  turned  and  left  me. 

Neither  sentimental  nor  calculating,  as  far  as  I 
could  see.  But  she  might  well  have  been  both.  And 
what  had  I  gained  by  my  attempt  at  a  confidential 
tone?  I  should  have  known  better  than  to  try, 
whether  she  stayed  here  or  went  elsewhere.  What 
business  was  it  of  mine  ?  'Twas  her  affair. 

You're  playing  and  pretending,  I  said  to  myself 
All  very  well  to  say  she's  literature  and  no  more,  but 
that  withered  soul  of  yours  showed  good  signs  of  life 
when  she  was  kind  to  you  and  began  looking  at  you 
with  those  two  eyes  of  hers.  I'm  disappointed  ;  I'm 
ashamed  of  you,  and  to-morrow  you  go ! 

But  I  did  not  go. 

And  true  it  is  that  I  went  about  spying  and  listen- 
ing  everywhere  for  anything  I  could  learn  of  Fru 


224  WANDERERS 

Falkenberg ;  and  then  at  times,  ay,  many  a  night, 
I  would  call  myself  to  account  for  that  same  thing, 
and  torture  myself  with  self-contempt.  From  early 
morning  I  thought  of  her  :  Is  she  awake  yet  ?  Has  she 
slept  well?  Will  she  be  going  back  home  to-day  ?  And 
at  the  same  time  all  sorts  of  ideas  came  into  my  head. 
I  might  perhaps  get  work  at  the  hotel  where  she  was 
staying.  Or  I  might  write  home  for  some  clothes, 
turn  gentleman  myself,  and  go  and  stay  at  that  same 
hotel.  This  last,  of  course,  would  at  once  have  cut 
the  ground  from  under  my  feet  and  left  me  farther 
removed  from  her  than  ever,  but  it  was  the  one  that 
appealed  to  me  most  of  all,  fool  that  I  was.  I  had 
begun  to  make  friends  with  the  hotel  porter,  already, 
merely  because  he  lived  nearer  to  her  than  I.  He  was 
a  big,  strong  fellow,  who  went  up  to  the  station  every 
day  to  meet  the  trains  and  pick  up  a  commercial 
traveller  once  a  fortnight.  He  could  give  me  no  news  ; 
I  did  not  ply  him  with  questions,  nor  even  lead  him  on 
to  tell  me  things  of  his  own  accord  ;  and,  besides,  he 
was  far  from  intelligent.  But  he  lived  under  the  same 
roof  with  Fruen — ah  yes,  that  he  did.  And  one  day  it 
came  about  that  this  acquaintance  of  mine  with  the 
hotel  porter  brought  me  a  piece  of  valuable  information 
about  Fru  Falkenberg,  and  that  from  her  own  lips. 

So  they  were  not  all  equally  fruitless,  those  days  in 
the  little  town. 

One  morning  I  came  back  with  the  porter  from  the 
station  ;  he  had  picked  up  a  traveller  with  a  heap  of 
luggage,  and  had  to  take  horse  and  cart  to  fetch 
the  heavy  grey  trunks. 

I  had  helped  him  to  get  them  loaded  up  at  the 
station,  and  now,  as  we  pulled  up  at  the  hotel,  he 
said:  "You  might  lend  a  hand  getting  these  things 
in  ;  I'll  stand  you  a  bottle  of  beer  this  evening." 

So  we  carried  in  the  trunks  together.     They  were  to 


WANDERERS 


225 


be  taken  up  at  once  to  the  big  luggage-room  upstairs  • 
the  owner  was  waiting  for  them.  It  was  an  easy 
job  for  the  two  of  us,  big,  strong  fellows  both. 

We  had  got  them  up  all  but  one-that  was  still  in  the 
cart-when  the  porter  was  called  back  uostair, 
traveller  was  giving  him  instructions  aboTt 

a"ime 


whether  they  did  not  notice  me,  or  took  me  for 

they  went  °n  with  w  -* 


"  And  if  w°»''  be 
OU'-  P"   to  fee, 

;|  Oh,  you  know  well  enough  !  »  she  answered. 
more  c'heert".''  •"'  '  d<>  thi"k  ^°"  "^  ^e  a  little 

"  You  wouldn't  like  it  if  I 
me  stay  as  ,  am,  miserable 
don  t  care  for  me  any  more." 

He  stopped  on  the  stairs  abruptly.     «  Reallv   I 
you  must  be  mad,"  he  said.  7' 

"  I  dare  say  I  am,"  she  answered. 

How  poorly  she  held  her  own  in  a  quarrel  »     It  v 
always  so  with  her.     Why  could  she  nY  be  Car    Jof 


on    the    stair-rail    and 
"  So  you  think  it  pleases  me  to  have  things  going  on 


226  WANDERERS 

like  this?  I  tell  you  it  hurts  me  desperately — has  done 
for  a  long  time  past." 

"And  me,"  she  answered.  "But  now  I'll  have  no 
more  of  it." 

"Oh,  indeed!  You've  said  that  before.  You  said 
it  only  a  week  ago." 

"Well,  I  am  going  now." 

He  looked  up  at  her. 

"  Going  away?  " 

"  Yes.     Very  soon." 

But  he  saw  that  he  had  betrayed  himself  in  grasping 
so  eagerly,  delightedly,  at  the  suggestion,  and  tried  now 
to  smooth  it  over. 

"There,  there!"  he  said.  "Be  a  nice  sensible 
cousin  now,  and  don't  talk  about  going  away." 

"  I  am  going,"  she  said,  and,  slipping  past  him,  went 
down  the  stairs  by  herself.  He  followed  after. 

Then  the  porter  came  out  and  we  went  down 
together.  The  last  box  was  smaller  than  the  others. 
I  asked  him  to  carry  it  up  himself,  pretending  I  had 
hurt  my  hand.  I  helped  him  to  get  it  on  his  back, 
and  went  off  home.  Now  I  could  go  away  the  follow- 
ing day. 

That  afternoon  Grindhusen,  too,  was  dismissed.  The 
engineer  had  sent  for  him,  given  him  a  severe  talking- 
to  for  doing  no  work  and  staying  in  town  and  getting 
drunk  ;  in  a  word,  his  services  were  no  longer 
needed. 

I  thought  to  myself:  It  was  strangely  sudden,  this 
new  burst  of  courage  on  the  part  of  the  engineer.  He 
was  so  young,  he  had  needed  someone  to  back  him  up 
and  agree  to  everything  he  said  ;  now,  however,  seeing 
that  a  certain  troublesome  cousin  was  going  away,  he 
had  no  further  need  of  comfort  there.  Or  was  my 
withered  soul  doing  him  an  injustice  ? 

Grindhusen  was  greatly  distressed.     He  had  reckoned 


WANDERERS  22; 

on  staying-  in  town  all  the  summer,  as  general  handy- 
man to  the  Inspector  himself;  but  all  hope  of  that  was 
gone  now.     The  Inspector  was  no  longer  as  good  as  a 
father  to  him.      And  Grindhusen  bore  the  disappoint- 
ment  badly.     When  they  came  to  settle  up,  the  In 
spector  had  been  going  to  deduct  the  two-Kroner  pieces 
he  had  given  him,  saying  they  had  only  been  meant 
as  payment  in  advance.     Grindhusen  sat  in  the  general 
room  at  the  lodging-house  and  told  us  all  about  it 
adding   that   the    Inspector   was    pretty   mean    in    the 
natter  of  wages  after  all.     At  this,  one  of  the  men 
burst  out  laughing,  and  said  : 

'No  ;  did  he,  though?     He  didn't  take  them  back 
really  ? 

"  Nay,"  said  Grindhusen.  «  He  didn't  dare  take  off 
more  than  the  one." 

There  was  more  laughter  at  this,  and  someone  else 
asked  ~. 

"No,  really?  Which  one  was  it  ?  Did  he  knock  off 
the  first  two-Kroner  or  the  second  ?  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  That's 
the  best  I've  heard  for  a  long  time." 

But  Grindhusen  did  not  laugh  ;   he  grew  more  and 
ore  sullen  and  despairing.     What  was  he  to  do  now  ? 
Farm  labourers  for  the  season's  work  would  have  been 
taken  on  everywhere  by  now,  and  here  he  was      He 
asked  me  where  I  was  going,  and  when  I  told  him    he 
begged  me  to  put  in  a  word  for  him  with  the  Captain 
and  see  if  I  couldn't  get  him  taken  on  there  for  the 
ummer      Meantime,  he  would  stay  on  in  the  town,  and 
wait  till  he  heard  from  me. 

But  I  knew  there  would  soon  be  an  end  of  Grind 
husen's  money  if  he  stayed  on  in  the  town.  The  end  of 
t  was,  I  took  him  along  with  me,  as  the  best  thing  to 
be  done  He  had  been  a  smart  hand  at  paintwork 
once  had  Grindhusen  ;  I  remembered  how  he  had  done 
up  old  Gunhild's  cottage  on  the  island.  He  could  come 


228  WANDERERS 

and  help  me  now,  for  the  time  being  ;  later  on,  we 
would  surely  find  something  else  for  him  to  do  ;  there 
would  be  plenty  of  field-work  in  the  course  of  the 
summer  where  he  might  be  useful. 

The  i6th  July  found  me  back  at  0vreb0.  I  remember 
dates  more  and  more  distinctly  now,  partly  by  reason  of 
my  getting  old  and  acquiring  the  intensified  interest  of 
senility  in  such  things,  partly  because  of  being  a 
labourer,  and  obliged  to  keep  account  of  my  working 
days.  But  an  old  man  may  keep  his  dates  in  mind 
and  forget  all  about  far  more  important  things.  Up  to 
now,  for  instance,  I  have  forgotten  to  mention  that  the 
letter  I  had  from  Captain  Falkenberg  was  addressed  to 
me  care  of  Engineer  Lassen.  Well  and  good.  But 
the  point  appeared  significant :  the  Captain,  then,  had 
ascertained  whom  I  was  working  for.  And  it  came 
into  my  mind  that  possibly  the  Captain  was  also  aware 
of  who  else  had  been  in  the  care  of  Engineer  Lassen 
that  summer ! 

The  Captain  was  still  away  on  duty  when  I  arrived  ; 
he  would  be  back  in  a  week.  As  it  was,  Grindhusen 
was  very  well  received  ;  Nils  was  quite  pleased  to  find 
I  had  brought  my  mate  along,  and  refused  to  let  me 
keep  him  to  help  with  the  painting,  but  sent  him  off  on 
his  own  responsibility  to  work  in  the  turnip  and  potato 
fields.  There  was  no  end  of  work — weeding  and  thinning 
out — and  Nils  was  already  in  the  thick  of  the  hay- 
making. 

He  was  the  same  splendid,  earnest  farmer  as  ever. 
At  the  first  rest,  while  the  horses  were  feeding,  he  took 
me  out  over  the  ground  to  look  at  the  crops.  Every- 
thing was  doing  well  ;  but  it  had  been  a  late  spring  that 
year,  and  the  cat's-tail  was  barely  forming  as  yet,  while 
the  clover  had  just  begun  to  show  bloom.  The  last  rain 
had  beaten  down  a  lot  of  the  first-year  grass,  and  it  could 


WANDERERS  229 

not  pick  up  again,  so  Nils  had  put  on  the  mowing- 
machine. 

We  walked  back  home  through  waving  grass  and 
corn ;  there  was  a  whispering  in  the  winter  rye  and  the 
stout  six-rowed  barley.  Nils,  who  had  not  forgotten 
his  schooling,  called  to  mind  that  beautiful  line  of 
Bjornson's : 

"  Beginning  like  a  whisper  in  the  corn  one  summer  day." 

"Time  to  get  the  horses  out  again,"  said  Nils, 
stepping  out  a  little.  And  waving  his  hand  once  more 
out  over  the  fields,  he  said:  "What  a  harvest  we'll 
have  this  year  if  we  can  only  get  it  safely  in  !  " 

So  Grindhusen  went  off  to  work  in  the  fields,  and  I 
fell  to  on  the  painting.  I  started  with  the  barn,  and 
all  that  was  to  be  red  ;  then  I  did  over  the  flagstaff 
and  the  summer-house  down  among  the  lilacs  with  a 
first  coat  of  oil.  The  house  itself  I  meant  to  leave  till 
the  last.  It  was  built  in  good  old-fashioned  country 
style,  with  rich,  heavy  woodwork  and  a  carved  border, 
a  la  grecque>  above  the  doorway.  It  was  yellow  as  it 
was,  and  a  new  lot  of  yellow  paint  had  come  in  to  do  it 
with  this  time.  I  took  upon  myself,  however,  to  send 
the  yellow  back,  and  get  another  colour  in  exchange. 
In  my  judgment  the  house  ought  to  be  stone-grey, 
with  doors  and  window-frames  and  verge-boards  white. 
But  that  would  be  for  the  Captain  to  decide. 

But  though  everyone  on  the  place  was  as  nice  as 
could  be,  and  the  cook  in  authority  lenient,  and  Ragn- 
hild  as  bright-eyed  as  ever,  we  all  felt  it  dull  with  the 
master  and  mistress  away.  All  save  Grindhusen,  honest 
fellow,  who  was  quite  content.  Decent  work  and  good 
food  soon  set  him  up  again,  and  in  a  few  days  he  was 
happy  and  waxing  fat.  His  one  anxiety  was  lest  the 
Captain  should  turn  him  off  when  he  came  home.  But 
no  such  thing— Grindhusen  was  allowed  to  stay. 


230  WANDERERS 

IX 

The  Captain  arrived. 

I  was  giving  the  barn  its  second  coat ;  at  the  sound 
of  his  voice  I  came  down  from  the  ladder.  He  bade 
me  welcome. 

"Running  away  from  your  money  like  that!"  he 
said.  And  I  fancied  he  looked  at  me  with  some 
suspicion  as  he  asked  :  "  What  did  you  do  that  for?  " 

I  answered  simply  that  I  had  no  idea  of  presuming 
to  make  him  a  present  of  my  work  ;  the  money  could 
stand  over,  that  was  all. 

He  brightened  up  at  that. 

"Yes,  yes,  of  course.  Well,  I'm  very  glad  you 
came.  We  must  have  the  flagstaff  white,  I  suppose?  " 

I  did  not  dare  tell  him  at  once  all  I  wanted  done  in 
white,  but  simply  said  : 

"  Yes.     I've  got  hold  of  some  white  paint." 

"  Have  you,  though?  That's  good.  You've  brought 
another  man  up  with  you,  I  hear  ?  " 

"  Yes.     I  don't  know  what  Captain  thinks  .   .  ." 

"  He  can  stay.  Nils  has  got  him  to  work  out  in  the 
fields  already.  And  anyhow,  you  all  seem  to  do  as  you 
like  with  me,"  he  added  jestingly.  "And  you've  been 
working  with  the  lumbermen,  have  you?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Hardly  the  sort  of  thing  for  you,  was  it?  "  Then, 
as  if  anxious  not  to  seem  curious  about  my  work 
with  Engineer  Lassen,  he  broke  off  abruptly  and  said : 
"  When  are  you  going  to  start  painting  the  house  ?  " 

"I  thought  of  beginning  this  afternoon.  It'll  need 
scraping  a  bit  here  and  there." 

"Good.  And  if  you  find  the  woodwork  loose  any- 
where, you  can  put  in  a  nail  or  so  at  the  same  time. 
Have  you  had  a  look  at  the  fields?  " 

"Yes." 


WANDERERS  231 

«  Everything's  looking  very  nice.    You  men  did  good 
work  last  spring.     Do  no  harm  now  if  we  had  a  h 
rain  for  the  upper  lands." 

"Grindhusen  and  I  passed  lots  of  places  on  the  way 
up  that  needed  rain  more  than  here.     It's  clay  bott. 
here,  and  far  up  in  the  hills." 

"That's   true.      How   did   you   know   that,   by  1 

way  ?  "  .       ,,  i 

"  I  looked  about  when  I  was  here  in  the  spring, 
answered,   "and  I  did  a  little  digging  here  and  there. 
I'd  an  idea  you'd  be  wanting  to  have  water  laid  on  t 
the  house  some  time  or  other,  so  I  went  prospecting 

1  "Water  laid  on?      Well,  yes,  I  did  think  of  it  at 
one  time,  but  ...  Yes,  I  was  going  to  have  it 
some  years  back  ;  but  I  couldn't  get  everything  done 
at  once,  and   then  it  was  held  up.      And  just   now  1 
shall  want  the  money  for  other  things." 

A  wrinkle  showed  between  his  eyes  for  a  moment ; 
he  stood  looking  down— in  thought. 

«  Well    well,  that  thousand  dozen  battens  ought 
do  it,  and  leave  something  over,"  he  said  suddenly. 
"Water?      It  would  have  to  be  laid  on  to  the 
buildings  as  well.     A  whole  system  of  pipes." 
"  There'd  be  no  rock- work  though,  no  blasting. 
"  Eh?     Oh,  well,  we'll  see.     What  was  I  going  to 
say?^  Did  you  have  a  good  time  down  there  in  the 
town?     Not  a  big  place,  but  you  do  see  more  people 
there.     And  the  railway  brings  visitors  now  and  again, 

no  doubt."  , 

"Aha,"  I  thought  to  myself,  "he  knows  well  enough 

what  visitor  came  to  stay  with  Engineer  Lassen  this 

summer!"     I  answered  that  I  did  not  care  much 

the  place— which  was  perfectly  true. 
"  No,  really?" 
He  seemed  to  find  something  to  ponder  over  in  tl 


232  WANDERERS 

he  stared  straight  in  front  of  him,  whistling  softly  to 
himself.     Then  he  walked  away. 

The  Captain  was  in  good  spirits  ;  he  had  been  more 
communicative  than  ever  before  ;  he  nodded  to  me  as 
he  went  off.  Just  as  of  old  he  was  now — quick  and 
determined,  taking  an  interest  in  his  affairs  once  more, 
and  sober  as  water.  I  felt  cheered  myself  to  see  him 
so.  He  was  no  wastrel ;  he  had  had  a  spell  of  foolish- 
ness and  dissipation,  but  it  needed  only  his  own  resolu- 
tion to  put  an  end  to  that.  An  oar  in  the  water  looks 
broken  to  the  eye,  but  it  is  whole. 

It  set  in  to  rain,  and  I  had  to  stop  work  on  the 
painting.  Nils  had  been  lucky  enough  to  get  in  all 
the  hay  that  was  cut ;  we  got  to  work  now  on  the 
potatoes,  all  hands  out  in  the  fields  at  once,  with  the 
womenfolk  from  the  house  as  well. 

Meanwhile  the  Captain  stayed  indoors  all  alone  ;  it 
was  dull  enough  ;  now  and  again  he  would  touch  the 
keys  of  Fruen's  piano.  He  came  out  once  or  twice  to 
where  we  were  at  work,  and  he  carried  no  umbrella, 
but  let  himself  get  drenched  to  the  skin. 

"Grand  weather  for  the  crops!  "  he  would  say  ;  or 
again,  "  Looks  like  being  an  extra  special  harvest  this 
year  !  "  But  when  he  went  back  to  the  house  there 
was  only  himself  and  loneliness  to  meet  him.  "  We're 
better  off  ourselves  than  he  is  now,"  said  Nils. 

So  we  worked  away  at  the  potatoes,  and  when 
they  were  done  there  were  the  turnips.  And  by  the 
time  we  were  through  with  them  the  weather  began 
to  clear.  Ideal  weather,  all  that  one  could  wish  for. 
Nils  and  I  were  as  proud  of  it  all  as  if  we  owned  the 
place. 

And  now  the  haymaking  began  in  earnest :  the  maids 
were  out,  spreading  in  the  wake  of  the  machine,  and 
Grindhusen  was  set  to  work  with  a  scythe  in  the 


WANDERERS  233 

corners  and  awkward  parts  where  the  machine  could 

not  go.     And  I  got  out  my  stone-grey  paint  and  set 

about  the  house. 

The  Captain  came  up.     "  What  colour's  that  you've 

got  there  ?  "  he  asked. 

What  could  I  say  to  that  ?     I  was  nervous,  I  know, 

but  my  greatest  fear  was  lest  I  should  not  be  allowed 

to  paint  it  grey  after  all.     As  it  was,  I  said  : 

"  Oh,  it's  only  some   ...    I  don't  know   ...    it 

doesn't  matter  what  we  put  on  for  the  first  coat.    ..." 
That  saved  me  for  the  time  being,  at  any  rate.     The 

Captain  said  no  more  about  it  then. 

When  I  had  done  the  house  all  grey,  and  doors  and 

windows  white,  I  went  down  to  the  summer-house  and 

did  that  the  same.  But  it  turned  out  horrible  to  look 
at ;  the  yellow  underneath  showed  through  and  made 
it  a  ghastly  colour.  The  flagstaff  I  took  down  and 
painted  a  clean  white.  Then  I  put  in  a  spell  of  field- 
work  with  Nils  and  was  haymaking  for  some  days. 
Early  in  August  it  was. 

Now,  when  I  went  back  to  my  painting  again  I  had 
settled  in  my  mind  to  start  on  the  house  as  early  as 
possible,  so  as  to  be  well  on  the  way  with  it  before  the 
Captain  was  up— too  far,  if  I  could  manage  it,  to  go 
back  !  I  started  at  three  in  the  morning  ;  there  was  a 
heavy  dew,  and  I  had  to  rub  the  woodwork  over  with  a 
bit  of  sack.  I  worked  away  for  an  hour,  and  then  had 
coffee,  then  on  again  till  eight.  I  knew  the  Captain  would 
be  getting  up  then,  so  I  went  off  to  help  Nils  for  an  hour 
and  be  out  of  the  way.  I  had  done  as  much  as  I 
wanted,  and  my  idea  now  was  to  give  the  Captain  time 
to  get  over  the  shock  of  my  grey,  in  case  he  should 
have  got  up  in  an  irritable  mood. 

After  breakfast  I  went  back  to  work,  and  stood  there 
on  my  ladder  painting  away,  as  innocently  as  could  be, 
when  the  Captain  came  up. 


234  WANDERERS 

"Are  you  doing  it  over  with  grey  again?"  he 
called  up. 

"  Godmorgen!     Yes.      I  don't  know  if  .   .   ." 

"  Now  what's  the  meaning  of  all  this?  Come  down 
off  that  ladder  at  once  !  " 

I  clambered  down.  But  I  was  not  anxious  now. 
I  had  thought  out  something  to  say  that  I  fancied 
would  prove  effective  at  the  right  moment — unless 
my  judgment  was  altogether  at  fault. 

I  tried  first  of  all  to  make  out  it  didn't  matter  really 
what  colour  we  used  for  the  second  time  either,  but  the 
Captain  cut  me  short  here  and  said  : 

"  Nonsense  !  Yellow  on  top  of  that  grey  will  look 
like  mud  ;  you  can  see  that  for  yourself,  surely." 

"  Well,  then,  we  might  give  it  two  coats  of  yellow," 
I  suggested. 

"  Four  coats  of  paint  ?  No,  thank  you  !  And  all  that 
white  you've  been  wasting !  It's  ever  so  much  dearer 
than  the  yellow." 

This  was  perfectly  true,  and  the  very  argument  I 
had  been  fearing  all  along.  I  answered  now  straight- 
forwardly : 

"  Let  me  paint  it  grey." 

"  What?" 

"  It  would  look  better.  There's  something  about 
the  house  .  .  .  and  with  the  green  of  the  woods 
behind  .  .  .  the  style  of  the  place  is  .  .  .  ' 

"  Is  grey,  you  mean?  "  He  swung  off  impatiently  a 
few  steps  and  came  back  again. 

And  then  I  faced  him,  more  innocently  than  ever, 
with  an  inspiration  surely  sent  from  above : 

"Now  I  remember!  Yes  .  .  .  I've  always  seen  it 
grey  in  my  mind,  ever  since  one  day — it  was  Fruen  that 
said  so  ..." 

I  was  a  watching  him  closely  ;  he  gave  a  great  start 
and  stared  at  me  wide-eyed  for  a  moment  ;  then  he 


WANDERERS  235 

took  out  his  handkerchief  and  began  fidgeting  with  it 
at  one  eye  as  if  to  get  out  a  speck  or  something. 

"  Indeed  !  "  he  said.     "  Did  she  say  so  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I'm  almost  sure  it  was  that.  It's  a  long  time 
back  now,  but  ..." 

"  Oh,  nonsense  !  "  he  broke  out  abruptly,  and  strode 
away.  I  heard  him  clearing  his  throat — hard — as  he 
crossed  the  courtyard  behind. 

I  stood  there  limply  for  a  while,  feeling  anything 
but  comfortable  myself.  I  dared  not  go  on  with  the 
painting  now,  and  risk  making  him  angry  again.  I 
went  round  to  the  back  and  put  in  an  hour  cutting 
firewood.  When  I  came  round  again,  the  Captain 
looked  out  from  an  open  window  upstairs  and  called 
down  : 

"  You  may  as  well  go  on  with  it  now  you've  got  so 
far.  I  don't  know  what  possessed  you,  I'm  sure.  But 
get  on  with  it  now." 

The  window  had  been  open  before,  but  he  slammed  it 
to  and  I  went  on  with  the  work. 

A  week  passed.  I  spent  my  time  between  painting 
and  haymaking.  Grindhusen  was  good  enough  at  hoe- 
ing potatoes  and  using  a  rake  here  and  there,  but  not 
of  much  account  when  it  came  to  loading  hay.  Nils 
himself  was  a  first-rate  hand,  and  a  glutton  for  work. 

I  gave  the  house  a  third  coat,  and  the  delicate  grey, 
picked  out  with  white,  made  the  place  look  nobler 
altogether.  One  afternoon  I  was  at  work,  the  Captain 
came  walking  up  from  the  road.  He  watched  me  for 
a  bit,  then  took  out  his  handkerchief  as  if  the  heat 
troubled  him,  and  said  : 

"  Yes,  better  go  on  with  it  now  you've  got  so  far. 
I  must  say  she  wasn't  far  wrong  about  the  colour.  All 
nonsense  though,  really  !  H'm  !  " 

I  made  no  answer.  The  Captain  used  his  handker- 
chief again  and  said  : 


236  WANDERERS 

"Hot  again  to-day — puh  !  What  was  I  going  to 
say  ?  .  .  .  yes,  it  doesn't  look  so  bad  after  all.  No,  she 
was  right — that  is,  I  mean,  you  were  right  about  the 
colour.  I  was  looking  at  it  from  down  there  just  now, 
and  it  makes  quite  a  handsome  place.  And  anyhow, 
it's  too  late  to  alter  it  now." 

"  I  thought  so  too,"  I  said.      "  It  suits  the  house." 

"Yes,  yes,  it  suits  the  house,  as  it  were.  And  what 
was  it  she  said  about  the  woods  behind — my  wife,  I 
mean?  The  background,  or  something?" 

"  It's  a  long  time  ago  now,  but  I'm  almost 
sure  ..." 

"  Yes,  yes,  never  mind.  I  must  say  I  never  thought 
it  would  turn  out  like  that — turn  out  so  well.  Will 
you  have  enough  white,  though,  to  finish  ?  " 

"  Well  .  .  .  yes,  I  sent  back  the  yellow  and  got 
some  white  instead." 

The  Captain  smiled,  shook  his  head,  and  walked 
away.  So  I  had  been  right  after  all ! 

Haymaking  took  up  all  my  time  now  till  it  was 
done,  but  Nils  lent  me  a  hand  in  return,  painting  at 
the  summer-house  in  the  evening.  Even  Grindhusen 
joined  in  and  took  a  brush.  He  wasn't  much  of  a 
painter,  he  said,  but  he  reckoned  he  could  be  trusted 
to  paint  a  bit  of  a  wall.  Grindhusen  was  picking  up 
fast. 

At  last  the  buildings  were  finished  ;  hardly  recognis- 
able, they  were,  in  their  new  finery.  And  when  we'd 
cleaned  up  a  bit  in  the  shrubbery  and  the  little  park — 
this  was  our  own  idea  —  the  whole  place  looked 
different  altogether.  And  the  Captain  thanked  us 
specially  for  what  we'd  done. 

We  started  on  the  rye  then,  and  at  the  same  time 
the  autumn  rain  set  in  ;  but  we  worked  away  all  we 
knew,  and  there  came  a  spell  of  sunshine  in  between 
whiles.  There  were  big  fields  of  thick,  heavy  rye, 


WANDERERS  237 

and  big  fields  again  of  oats  and  barley,  not  yet  ripe. 
It  was  a  rich  landscape  to  work  in.  The  clover  was 
seeding,  but  the  turnips  were  somewhat  behindhand. 
A  good  soaking  would  put  them  right,  said  Nils. 

The  Captain  sent  me  up  to  the  post  from  time  to 
time  ;  once  he  gave  me  a  letter  for  his  wife.  A  whole 
bundle  of  letters  there  were,  to  different  people,  and 
hers  in  the  middle.  It  was  addressed  care  of  her 
mother  in  Kristianssand.  When  I  came  back  in  the 
evening  and  took  in  the  incoming  post,  the  Captain's 
first  words  were  :  "  You  posted  the  letters  all  right  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  said. 

Time  went  on.  On  wet  days,  when  there  was  little 
we  could  do  out  of  doors,  the  Captain  wanted  me  to 
paint  a  bit  here  and  there  about  the  house  inside.  He 
showed  me  some  fine  enamels  he  had  got  in,  and  said : 

"  Now  here's  the  staircase  to  begin  with.  I  want 
that  white,  and  I've  ordered  a  dark  red  stair-carpet 
to  put  down.  Then  there'll  be  doors  and  windows. 
But  I  want  all  this  done  as  soon  as  possible,  really  ; 
it's  been  left  too  long  as  it  is." 

I  quite  agreed  that  this  was  a  good  idea  of  the 
Captain's.  He  had  lived  carelessly  enough  for  years 
past  now,  never  troubling  about  the  look  of  his  house  ; 
now  he  had  begun  to  take  an  interest  in  it  again  ;  it 
was  a  sort  of  reawakening.  He  took  me  over  the 
place,  upstairs  and  down,  and  showed  me  what  was 
to  be  done.  I  noticed  the  pictures  and  sculpture  in 
the  rooms  ;  there  was  a  big  marble  lion,  and  paintings 
by  Askevold  and  the  famous  Dahl.  Heirlooms,  I 
supposed  they  would  be.  Fruen's  room  upstairs  looked 
just  as  if  she  were  at  home,  with  all  sorts  of  little 
trifles  neatly  in  their  places,  and  clothes  hanging  still  on 
the  pegs.  It  was  a  fine  old  house,  with  moulded  ceil- 
ings, and  some  of  the  walls  done  in  costly  style,  but 
the  paintwork  everywhere  was  faded  or  flaking  off. 


238  WANDERERS 

The  staircase  was  broad  and  easy,  with  seats,  and  a 
mahogany  handrail. 

I  was  painting  indoors  one  day  when  the  Captain 
came  in. 

"  It's  harvest-time,  I  know,  but  this  indoor  work's 
important  too.  My  wife  will  be  back  soon.  I  don't 
know  what  we're  to  do,  really  !  I'd  like  to  have  the 
place  thoroughly  cleaned  up." 

So  that  letter  was  asking  her  to  come  back  !  I  thought 
to  myself.  But  then,  again,  it  was  some  days  since  he 
had  written,  and  I  had  been  to  the  post  several  times 
myself,  after,  but  no  answer  had  come.  I  knew 
Fruen's  writing.  I  had  seen  it  six  years  before.  But 
the  Captain  thought  perhaps  that  he  had  only  to  say 
"Come,"  and  she  would  obey.  Well,  well,  he  might 
be  right ;  she  was  taking  a  little  time  to  get  ready, 
that  was  all.  .  .  .  How  was  I  to  know? 

The  painting  had  grown  so  important  now,  that  the 
Captain  went  up  himself  to  the  clearing  and  got  Lars  to 
come  down  and  help  with  the  field-work  in  my  place. 
Nils  was  by  no  means  pleased  with  the  exchange,  for 
Lars  was  not  over  willing  under  orders  on  the  place 
where  he  had  been  in  charge  himself  in  days  gone  by. 

But  there  was  no  such  need  of  hurry  about  the 
painting,  as  it  turned  out.  The  Captain  sent  the  lad 
up  twice  to  the  post,  but  I  watched  for  him  on  the 
way  back  both  times,  and  found  he  had  no  letter  from 
Fruen.  Perhaps  she  was  not  coming  after  all  !  Ay,  it 
might  be  as  bad  as  that.  Or  she  felt  herself  in  a  false 
position,  and  was  too  proud  to  say  yes  because  her 
husband  called.  It  might  be  that. 

But  the  paint  was  on  and  had  time  to  dry ;  the  red 
stair-carpet  came  and  was  laid  down  with  brass  rods  ; 
the  staircase  looked  wonderfully  fine  ;  wonderfully  fine, 
too,  were  the  doors  and  windows  in  the  rooms  upstairs. 
But  Fruen  did  not  come — no. 


WANDERERS  239 

We  got  through  with  the  rye,  and  set  to  work  in 
good  time  on  the  barley  ;  but  Fruen  did   not   come. 
The   Captain   went   out   and   gazed   down    the    road, 
whistling   to   himself;    he  was   looking   thinner   now. 
Often  and  often  he  would  come  out  to  where  we  were 
at  work,  and  keep  with  us,  looking  on  all  the  time 
without  a  word.     But  if  Nils  happened   to   ask   him 
anything,  he  did  not  start  as  if  his  thoughts  had  been 
elsewhere,  but  was  quick  and  ready  as  could  be. 
did  not  seem  dejected,  and  as  for  looking  thin,  that 
was  perhaps  because  he  had  got  Nils  to  cut  his  hair. 
Then  I  was  sent  up  to  the  post  again,  and  this  t 
there  was  a  letter.      Fruen's   hand,   and   postmarked 
Kristianssand.     I  hurried  back,  laid  the  letter  in  among 
the  rest  of  the  post,  and  handed  the  whole  bundle  to 
the  Captain  outside   the  house.      He  took  it  with  a 
careless  word  of  thanks,  showing  no  eagerness  to  see 
what  there  was  ;  he  was  used  to  being  disappointed. 

"Corn  coming  in  everywhere,  I  suppose?  "  he  asked 
casually,  glancing  at  the  letters  one  ^r  a,nOTther' 
-  What  was  the  road  like  ?  All  right  ?  "  While  I  was 
telling  him,  he  came  upon  Fruen's  letter,  and  at  once, 
packing  up  the  whole  bundle  together,  he  turned  to  me 
with  a  sudden  intensified  interest  in  other  people's 
crops  and  the  state  of  the  roads.  Keeping  himself  well 
in  hand  ;  he  was  not  going  to  show  feeling  openly. 
He  nodded  as  he  walked  off,  and  said  "Thank  you 

once  more. 

Next  day  the  Captain  came  out  and  washed  and 
greased  the  carriage  himself.  But  it  was  two  days 
more  before  he  used  it.  We  were  sitting  at  supper 
one  evening  when  the  Captain  came  into  the  kitchen 
and  said  he  wanted  someone  to  drive  him  to  the 
station  to-morrow.  He  could  have  driven  himself,  but 
he  was  going  to  fetch  his  wife,  who  was  coming  home 
from  abroad,  and  he  would  have  to  take  the  landau  in 


240  WANDERERS 

case  it  rained.  Nils  decided,  then,  that  Grindhusen  had 
better  drive,  he  being"  the  one  who  could  best  be  spared. 
The  rest  of  us  went  on  with  our  field-work  while 
they  were  away.  There  was  plenty  to  do  ;  besides  the 
rye  and  barley  not  yet  in,  there  were  still  potatoes  to 
hoe  and  turnips  to  see  to.  But  Ragnhild  and  the 
dairymaid  both  lent  a  hand ;  all  youth  and  energy 
they  were. 

It  might  have  been  pleasant  enough  to  work  side  by 
side  with  my  old  mate  Lars  Falkenberg  once  more, 
but  he  and  Nils  could  not  get  on  together,  and  instead 
of  cheerful  comradeship,  a  gloomy  silence  hung  over 
the  fields.  Lars  seemed  to  have  got  over  his  late 
ill-will  towards  me  in  some  degree,  but  he  was  short 
and  sullen  with  us  all  on  account  of  Nils. 

At  last  Nils  decided  that  Lars  should  take  the  pair  of 
chestnuts  and  get  to  work  on  the  autumn  ploughing. 
Lars  was  offended,  and  said  crossly  :  No.  He'd  never 
heard  of  doing  things  that  way  before,  he  said,  starting 
to  plough  your  land  before  you'd  got  the  harvest  off  it. 
"That  may  be,"  said  Nils,  "  but  I'll  find  you  land  that 
has  been  reaped  enough  to  keep  you  going." 

There  were  more  words  over  that.  Lars  found 
everything  all  wrong  somehow  at  0vreb0.  In  the  old 
days  he  used  to  do  his  work  and  sing  songs  after  for 
the  company  at  the  house  ;  now,  it  was  all  a  mess  and 
a  muddle,  and  no  sense  in  any  way  of  doing  things. 
Ploughing,  indeed  !  Not  if  he  knew  it. 

"You  don't  know  what  you're  talking  about,"  said 
Nils.  "Nowadays  you'll  see  folk  ploughing  between 
the  corn-poles  and  the  hay-frames." 

"  I've  not  seen  it  yet,"  said  Lars.  "  But  it  seems 
you've  seen  a  lot.  Of  all  the  silly  goats  ..." 

But  the  end  of  it  was  that  Lars  gave  way,  Nils 
being  head  man  there,  and  went  on  ploughing  till 
the  Captain  came  home. 


WANDERERS  241 

It  crossed  my  mind  that  I  had  left  some  washing 
behind  with  Emma  when  I  went  away,  before.  But  I 
judged  it  best  not  to  go  up  to  the  clearing  after  it  now, 
while  Lars  was  in  his  present  mood. 

X 

The  Captain  and  his  wife  came  next  day.  Nils  and 
I  had  talked  over  whether  to  hoist  the  flag  ;  I  dared 
not  myself,  but  Nils  was  less  cautious,  and  said  we 
must.  So  there  it  was,  flapping  broad  and  free  from 

its  white  staff. 

I  was  close  at  hand  when  the  carriage  drove  up  and 
they  got  out.  Fruen  walked  out  far  across  the  court- 
yard, looked  at  the  house,  and  clapped  her  hands.  I 
heard  her,  too,  loud  in  wonder  as  she  entered  the  hall 
-at  sight  of  the  stairs,  no  doubt,  and  the  new  red 

carpet. 

Grindhusen  had  no  sooner  got  the  horses  in  than  he 
came  up  to  me,  all  agape  with  astonishment  over  some- 
thing, and  drew  me  aside  to  talk. 

"  There  must  be  something  wrong,"  he  said.  That's 
not  Fru  Falkenberg,  surely  ?  Is  she  married  to  him- 
the  Captain,  I  mean?" 

"Why,  yes,  Grindhusen,  the  Captain's  wife  is 
married  to  the  Captain.  What  makes  you  ask  ?  " 

»  But  it's  that  cousin  girl !  I'll  stake  my  life  on  it  if 
it's  not  the  very  same  one.  The  Inspector's  cousin  that 

was  there." 

«  Not  a  bit  of  it,  Grindhusen.     But  it  might  be  her 

sister." 

"But  I'll  stake  my  life  on  it.  I  saw  her  with  him 
myself  I  don't  know  how  many  times." 

"  Well,  well,  she  may  be  his  cousin  as  far  as  that 
goes,  but  what's  it  to  do  with  us  ?  " 
5  "  I  saw  it  the  moment  she  got  out  of  the  tram.     And 
16 


242  WANDERERS 

she  looked  at  me,  too,  and  gave  a  start.  I  could  see 
her  breathing"  quickly  after.  Don't  come  telling1  me. 
.  .  .  But  I  can't  make  out.  ...  Is  she  from  here?" 

"Was  Fruen  pleased,  or  did  she  look  unhappy  ?"  I 
asked. 

"  Nay,  I  don't  know.  Yes,  I  think  she  was." 
Grindhusen  shook  his  head,  still  marvelling  how  this 
could  be  the  Captain's  wife.  "You  must  have  seen 
her  with  the  Inspector  yourself,"  he  said.  "  Didn't  you 
recognise  her  again  ?  " 

"  Was  she  pleased,  did  you  say?  " 

"  Pleased?  Why,  yes,  I  suppose  so.  I  don't  know. 
They  talked  such  a  lot  of  queer  stuff  the  pair  of  them, 
driving  home — began  in  the  station,  the  minute  she 
got  out.  There  was  a  whole  lot  I  couldn't  make  out 
at  all.  '  I  don't  know  what  to  say,'  said  she,  '  but  I 
beg  you  so  earnestly  to  forgive  me  for  it  all.'  'And  so 
do  I,'  says  he.  Now  did  you  ever  hear  such  a  thing? 
And  they  were  both  of  them  crying,  I  believe,  in  the 
carriage  after.  '  I've  had  the  place  painted  and  done 
up  a  bit,'  said  the  Captain.  'Have  you?'  says  she. 
And  then  he  went  on  talking  about  all  her  things,  and 
how  they  were  still  there  and  never  been  touched.  I 
don't  know  what  things  he  meant,  but  he  thought  she'd 
find  everything  still  in  its  place,  he  said.  Did  you  ever 
hear  the  like?  'All  your  things,'  he  said.  And  then 
he  went  on  about  somebody  Elisabeth,  and  said  he  never 
gave  her  a  thought,  and  never  had  been,  I  think  he 
said.  And  she  cried  like  anything  at  that,  and  was  all 
upset.  But  she  didn't  say  a  word  about  being  abroad, 
as  the  Captain  said.  No,  I'll  stake  my  life  she'd  come 
from  the  Inspector." 

I  began  to  fear  I  had  made  a  grave  mistake  in 
bringing  Grindhusen  to  0vreb0.  It  was  done  now,  but 
I  wished  it  undone.  And  I  told  Grindhusen  himself 
as  much,  and  that  pretty  plainly. 


WANDERERS  24  3 

"Fruen  here's  the  mistress  of  the  place,  and  good 

and  kind  as  could  be  to  everyone,  and  the  Captain  as 

well,  remember  that.     But  you'll  find  yourself  whipped 

t   of  here,   and   at   once,  if  you  go  gossiping  and 

Jllmg  tales.     Take  my  advice  and  be  careful.     You've 

got  a  good  job  here,  with  good  pay  and  decent  food. 

Junk  of  that,  and  keep  quiet  while  you're  here." 

'  Yes,  yes,  you're  right,"  said  Grindhusen   meekly 
enough.     -I  don't  say  a  word;   only,  that  she's  the 
very  image  of  that  cousin  down  there.     And  did  I  ever 
say  more  than  that  ?     I  don't  know  what  you've  got  to 
make  such  a  fuss  about,  and  as  for  that,  maybe  she's  a 
bit  fairer  than  the  cousin.     I  won't  swear  it's  the  same 
sort  of  hair.     And   I  never  said  it  was.     But  if  you 
want  to  know  what  I  thought,  I'll  tell  you  straight  out 
I  was  thinking  she  was  too  good  to  be  that  cousin  girl 
That  was  my  very  thought.     'T would  be  a  shame  for 
her  to  be  cousin  to  a  fellow  like  that,  and  I  can't  think 
how  anybody  ever  could.     I'm  not  thinking  about  the 
money  now  ;  you  know  as  well  as  I  do  I'm  not  the  man 
to  make  a  fuss  over  losing  a  two-Kroner  piece,  no  more 
an  you  yourself,  but  it  was  a  mean  thing  to  do,  all  the 
same,  giving  me  the  money  one  day  and  taking  it  back 
the  next.     Ay,  that  it  was.     I  say  no  more  than  that. 
I  don't  know  what's  the  matter  with  you  lately 
flying  out  the  least  word  a  man  says.     And  what  have 
[  said,  anyway?     A  mean  lot,  that  he  was;   paid  me 
two  Kroner  a  day  and  find  my  own  food,  and  always 
niggling  and  haggling  over  every  little  thing.     I've  had 
enough  of  your  talk  anyhow,  but  I'll  tell  you  what  was 
my  very  thought,  if  you  want  to  know.  ..." 

But  all  his  flow  of  talk  did  not  avail  to  hide  the  fact 
that  he  had  recognised  Fruen  at  once,  and  was  still 
convinced  that  he  was  right. 

All  things  in  order  now,  the  Captain  and  Fruen  at 


244  WANDERERS 

home,  bright  days  and  a  rich  harvest.  What  more 
could  any  wish  for  ? 

Fruen  greets  me  with  a  kindly  glance,  and  says  : 

"The  place  looks  different  altogether  after  the  way 
you've  painted  it  so  nicely.  The  Captain's  ever  so 
pleased." 

She  seemed  calmer  now  than  when  I  had  seen  her 
last,  on  the  stairs  of  the  hotel  in  the  town.  She  did 
not  start  and  breathe  quickly  at  sight  of  me  as  she  had 
with  Grindhusen,  and  that  could  only  mean  she  was  not 
displeased  at  seeing  me  again  !  So  I  thought  to  my- 
self, and  was  glad  to  think  so.  But  why  had  she  not 
left  off  that  unsteady  glance,  that  flutter  of  the  eyes, 
she  had  fallen  into  of  late  ?  If  I  were  the  Captain,  now, 
I  would  speak  to  her  about  it.  And  her  complexion, 
too,  was  not  what  it  had  been.  There  were  some 
curious  little  spots  about  the  temples.  But  what 
matter?  She  was  no  less  pretty  for  that. 

"I'm  afraid,  though,"  she  went  on,  "it  wasn't 
my  idea  at  all  with  the  lovely  grey  for  the  house. 
You  must  have  made  a  mistake  in  thinking  I  said 
so." 

"  Well,  then,  I  can't  make  it  out.  But,  anyhow,  it's 
no  matter  ;  the  Captain  himself  decided  to  have  it." 

"The  staircase  is  simply  splendid,  and  so  are  the 
rooms  upstairs.  It's  twice  as  bright  as  before.  .  .  ." 

Twas  Fruen  herself  was  trying  to  be  twice  as  bright 
and  twice  as  good  as  before.  I  knew  that  well  enough. 
And  she  fancied  she  owed  me  these  little  marks  of 
kindliness,  for  something  or  other.  Well  and  good, 
but  now  it  was  enough.  Best  let  it  be. 

Autumn  drawing  on,  the  scent  of  the  jasmine  all 
importunate  down  in  the  shrubbery,  and  red  and  yellow 
showing  up  long  since  on  the  wooded  hills.  Not  a 
soul  in  the  place  but  is  glad  to  have  Fruen  at  home 
again  ;  the  flag,  too,  does  its  part.  'Tis  like  a  Sunday  ; 


WANDERERS  245 

the  maids  have  put  clean  aprons  on,  fresh  from  the 

ironing. 

In  the  evening  I  went  down  by  the  little  stone  steps 
to  the  shrubbery  and  sat  there  awhile.  The  jasmines 
were  pouring  out  waves  of  perfume  after  the  heat  ot 
the  day.  After  awhile  Nils  came  down,  looking  for 

me. 

"  No  visitors  here  now,"  says  Nils.  "  And  no  hjgh 
goings-on  at  nights.  Have  you  heard  anything  of  that 
sort  at  night  now,  since  the  Captain  first  came  back?" 

"No." 

"  And  that's  full  ten  weeks  ago  now.  What  d  you 
say  if  I  tore  off  this  thing  now?  "  And  he  pointed  to 
his  temperance  badge.  "  Captain's  given  up  drinking, 
here's  Fruen  home  again,  and  no  call  to  be  unfriendly 
anyway  to  either  of  them." 

He  handed  me  a  knife,  and  I  cut  the  badge  away. 

We  talked  for  a  bit  about  the  farm- work— Nils 
thought  of  nothing  else.  "We'll  have  most  of  the 
corn  under  shelter  by  to-morrow  night,"  he  says. 
"And  thank  goodness  for  that!  Then  we'll  sow  the 
winter  rye.  Queer  thing,  isn't  it?  Here's  Lars  went 
on  year  after  year  sowing  by  machine,  and  thought  it 
good  enough.  Not  if  I  know  it !  We'll  sow  ours  by 
hand." 

"But  why?" 

"  On  land  like  ours  !  Now  just  take  the  man  over 
there,  for  instance  ;  he  sowed  by  machine  three  weeks 
ago,  and  some's  come  up  and  some  not.  No.  The 
machine  goes  too  deep  in  the  soil." 

"  H'm  !     Don't  the  jasmines  smell  fine  to-night  ?  " 
"  Yes.     There's  been  a  big  difference  with  the  barley 
and  oats  these  last  few  days.     Getting  on  time  for  bed, 
though,  now!" 

He  got  up,  but  I  did  not  move.  "  Looks  like  being 
fine  again  to-morrow,"  says  Nils,  glancing  at  the  sky. 


246  WANDERERS 

And  then  he  went  on  about  the  grass  in  the  garden  ; 
worth  cutting,  he  said  it  was. 

"You  going  to  stay  down  here  long?"  he  asked 
suddenly. 

"Yes,  for  a  bit;  why  not?  Oh,  well,  perhaps  I'd 
better  go  up  too." 

Nils  walked  off  a  few  paces,  then  came  back  again. 

"  Better  not  stay  here  any  longer,"  he  said.  "  Come 
along  up  here  with  me." 

"Think  so?"  I  said,  and  rose  at  once.  Evidently 
Nils  had  something  in  his  mind,  and  had  come  down 
here  on  purpose  to  fetch  me. 

Had  he  found  me  out  ?  But  what  was  there  to  find 
out? 

Did  I  know  myself  what  I  had  gone  down  to  the 
shrubbery  for  ?  I  remember  now  that  I  lay  face  down- 
wards, chewing  a  stalk  of  grass.  There  was  light  in 
a  certain  upstairs  window  of  the  house.  I  was  looking 
at  that.  And  that  was  all. 

"  Not  being  inquisitive  now,  but  what's  the  matter  ?  " 
I  asked. 

"Nothing,"  said  Nils.  "The  girls  said  you  were 
down  here,  so  I  just  came  along.  Why,  what  else  ?  " 

So  the  maids  had  found  me  out,  I  thought  to  myself, 
and  was  ill-pleased  at  the  thought.  Ragnhild  it  must 
be,  a  devil  of  a  girl,  sharp  as  a  needle  ;  she  must  have 
said  a  lot  more  than  Nils  was  willing  to  confess.  And 
what  if  Fruen  herself  had  seen  me  from  the  window ! 

I  resolved  now  to  be  cold  and  indifferent  as  ice  hence- 
forward all  the  days  of  my  life. 

Ragnhild  is  properly  in  clover.  The  thick  stair 
carpet  muffles  every  step  ;  she  can  run  upstairs  when- 
ever she  pleases  and  slip  down  again  in  a  moment 
without  a  sound. 

"I  can't  make  it  out  about  Fruen,"  says  Ragnhild. 


WANDERERS  247 

"Here  she's  come  back,  and  ought  to  be  happy  and 
good-tempered  as  could  be,  and  instead  she's  all  tears 
and  frowning.  I  heard  the  Captain  telling  her  to-day : 
'  Now  do  be  a  little  reasonable,  Lovise,'  he  said.  <  I'm 
sorry,  I  won't  do  it  any  more,'  says  Fruen  ;  and  then 
she  cried  because  she'd  been  unreasonable.  But  that 
about  never  doing  it  any  more— she's  said  that  now  every 
day  since  she  came  back,  but  she's  done  it  again,  all  the 
same.  Poor  dear,  she'd  a  toothache  to-day  ;  she  was 
simply  crying  out  with  the  pain.  .  .  ." 

"Go   and    get   on   with    the    potatoes,    Ragnhild," 
said    Nils   quickly       "We've    no    time   for   gossiping 


now. 


We'd  all  of  us  our  field-work  now  ;  there  was  much 
to  be  done.  Nils  was  afraid  the  corn  would  spoil  if  he 
left  it  too  long  at  the  poles  ;  better  to  get  it  in  as  it 
was.  Well  and  good  ;  but  that  meant  threshing  the 
worst  of  it  at  once,  and  spreading  the  grain  over  the 
floor  of  every  shed  and  outhouse.  Even  in  our  own 
big  living-room  there  was  a  large  layer  of  corn  drying 
on  the  floor.  Any  more  irons  in  the  fire  ?  Ay,  indeed, 
and  all  the  while  hot  and  waiting.  Bad  weather  has 
set  in,  and  all  the  work  ought  to  be  done  at  once. 
When  we've  finished  threshing,  there's  the  fresh  straw 
to  be  cut  up  and  salted  down  in  bins  to  keep  it  from 
rotting.  That  all  ?  Not  by  a  long  way  :  irons  enough 
still  glowing  hot.  Grindhusen  and  the  maids  are 
pulling  potatoes.  Nils  snatches  the  precious  time  after 
a  couple  of  dry  days  to  sow  a  patch  of  rye  and  send 
the  lad  over  it  with  the  harrow.  Lars  Falkenberg  is 
still  ploughing ;  he  has  given  way  altogether  and 
turned  out  a  fine  ploughman  since  the  Captain  and 
Fruen  came  back.  When  the  corn-land's  too  soft  he 
ploughs  the  meadows ;  then,  when  sun  and  wind 
have  dried  things  a  bit,  he  goes  on  to  the  corn-land 
again. 


248  WANDERERS 

The  work  goes  on  steadily  and  well  ;  in  the  afternoon 
the  Captain  himself  comes  out  to  lend  a  hand.  The 
last  load  of  corn  is  being"  brought  in. 

Captain  Falkenberg  is  no  child  at  the  work,  big  and 
strong  he  is,  and  with  the  right  knack  of  it.  See  him 
loading  up  oats  from  the  drying-frames:  his  second  load 
now. 

Just  then  Fruen  comes  along  down  the  road,  and 
crosses  over  to  where  we  are  at  work.  Her  eyes  are 
bright.  She  seems  pleased  to  watch  her  husband 
loading  up  corn. 

"  Signe  Arbejdet!  " l  she  says. 

"  Thanks,"  says  the  Captain. 

"That's  what  we  used  to  say  in  Nordland." 

"What?" 

"  That's  what  we  used  to  say  in  Nordland  " 

"Oh  yes." 

The  Captain  is  busy  with  his  work,  and  in  the  rustle 
of  the  straw  he  does  not  always  hear  what  she  says, 
but  has  to  look  up  and  ask  again,  and  this  annoys  them 
both. 

"Are  the  oats  ripe?  "  she  asks. 

"  Yes,  thank  goodness  !  " 

"  But  not  dry,  I  suppose?  " 

"Eh?     I  can't  hear  what  you  say." 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  say  anything." 

A  long,  uncomfortable  silence  after  that.  The  Cap- 
tain tries  once  or  twice  with  a  good-humoured  word, 
but  gets  no  answer. 

"So  you're  out  on  a  round  of  inspection,"  he  says 
jestingly.  "  Have  you  seen  how  the  potatoes  are 
getting  on?  " 

"  No,"  she  answers.  "  But  I'll  go  over  there,  by  all 
means,  if  you  can't  bear  the  sight  of  me  here." 

It  was  too  dreadful  to  hear  them  going  on  like  this 
1 "  A  blessing  on  the  work." 


WANDERERS  249 

I  must  have  frowned  unconsciously— shown  some  such 
feeling.  Then,  suddenly  remembering  that  for  certain 
reasons  I  was  to  be  cold  as  ice,  I  frowned  the 
more. 

Fruen  looked  straight  at  me  and  said  : 

"  What  are  you  scowling  at  ?  " 

"  Scowling,  eh  ?  "  says  the  Captain,  joining  in,  with  a 
forced  laugh. 

Fruen  takes  him  up  on  the  instant. 

"  Ah  !  you  managed  to  hear  that  time !  " 

"  Really,  Lovise  .  .  ." 

Fruen's  eyes  dimmed  suddenly  ;  she  stood  a  moment, 
then  ran,  stooping  forward,  round  behind  the  frames, 
and  sobbed. 

The  Captain  went  over  to  her.  "  What  is  it,  Lovise, 
tell  me?" 

"  Oh,  nothing,  nothing  !     Go  away." 
She  was  sick  ;  we  could  hear  it.     And  moaning  and 
saying  :   "  Heaven  help  me  !  " 

"  My  wife's  not  very  well  just  now,"  says  the  Captain 
to  me.  "  We  can't  make  out  what  it  is." 

'There's  sickness  in  the  neighbourhood,"  I  sug- 
gested, for  something  to  say.  "  Sort  of  autumn  fever. 
I  heard  about  it  up  at  the  post  office." 

"  Is  there,  though  ?  Why,  there  you  are,  Lovise,"  he 
calls  out.  "  There's  some  sort  of  fever  about,  it  seems 
That's  all  it  is." 

Fruen  made  no  answer. 

We  went  on  loading  up,  and  Fruen  moved  farther 
and  farther  away  as  we  came  up.  At  last  the  frames 
were  cleared,  and  she  stood  there  guiltily,  very  pale 
after  her  trouble. 

"Shall  I  see  you  back  to  the  house?"  asked  the 
Captain. 

"No,  thank  you,  I'd  rather  not,"  she  answered, 
walking  away. 


250  WANDERERS 

The  Captain  stayed  out  and  worked  with  us  till 
evening. 

So  here  was  everything-  gone  wrong  again.  Oh,  but 
it  was  hard  for  them  both  ! 

And  it  was  not  just  a  little  matter  that  could  be  got 
over  by  a  little  give  and  take  on  either  side,  as  folk 
say  ;  no,  it  was  a  thing  insuperable,  a  trouble  rooted 
deep.  And  now  it  had  come  to  mutiny,  no  less :  Fruen 
had  taken  to  locking  her  door  at  night.  Ragnhild  had 
heard  the  Captain,  highly  offended,  talking  to  her 
through  the  wall. 

But  that  evening  the  Captain  had  demanded  to  speak 
with  her  in  her  room  before  she  went  to  bed.  Fruen 
agreed,  and  there  was  a  further  scene.  Each  was  will- 
ing and  anxious,  no  doubt,  to  set  matters  right,  but  it 
was  hopeless  now  ;  it  was  too  late.  We  sat  in  the 
kitchen,  Nils  and  I,  listening  to  Ragnhild's  story.  I 
had  never  seen  Nils  look  so  miserable  before. 

"If  things  go  wrong  again  now,  it's  all  over,"  he 
said.  "  I  thought  to  myself  last  summer  that  perhaps 
a  good,  sound  thrashing  would  do  her  good.  But  that 
was  just  foolishness,  I  can  see  now.  Did  she  talk  about 
running  away  again  ?  " 

"She  said  something  about  it,"  answered  Ragnhild. 
And  then  she  went  on  something  like  this  :  "It  began 
with  the  Captain  asking  if  she  didn't  think  it  was  this 
local  sickness  she  had  got.  Fruen  answered  it  could 
hardly  be  any  local  sickness  that  had  turned  her  against 
him  so.  'Turned  you  against  me?'  'Yes.  Oh,  I 
could  scream  sometimes.  At  table,  for  instance,  the 
way  you  eat  and  eat.  .  .  .'  '  Do  I  ?  '  says  the  Captain. 
'  Well,  I  can't  see  there's  anything  very  wrong  in  that ; 
it's  just  natural.  There's  no  rule  for  how  much  one 
ought  to  eat  at  a  meal.'  '  But  to  have  to  sit  and  look 
at  you — it  makes  me  sick.  It's  that  that  makes  me  ill.' 


WANDERERS  251 

'  Well,  anyhow,  you  can't  say  I  drink  too  much  now,' 
said  he.     <  So  it's  better  than  it  was.'     '  No,  indeed,  it's 
worse  ! '     Then  says  the  Captain :   <  Well,  really,  I  do 
think  you  might  make  allowances  for  me  a  little,  after 
I've— I  mean,  considering  what  you  did  yourself  this 
summer.'     '  Yes,  you're  right,' says  Fruen,  beginning 
to  cry.     '  If  you  knew  how  it  hurts  and  plagues  me 
night  and  day,   thinking  of  that.  .  .  .  But  I've  never 
said  a  word.'     '  No,  I  know,'  says  she,  crying  all  the 
more.      <  And  I  asked  you  myself  to  come  back,'  he 
said.     But  at  that  she  seemed  to  think  he  was  taking 
too  much  credit  to  himself;  she  stopped  crying,  and 
answered,  with  a  toss  of  her  head  :   <  Yes,  and  it  would 
have  been  better  if  you'd  never  asked  me  back,   if  it 
was  only  to  go  on  like  this.'     'Like  what?'  says  he. 
'  You've  your  own  way  in  everything  now.     The  same 
as  before,  only  you  don't  care  for  anything  at  all.     You 
never  touch  the  piano,  even  ;  only  go  about  cross  and 
irritable  all    the   time  ;    there's   no  pleasing  you   with 
anything.     And  you  shut  your  door  at  night  and  lock 
me  out.     Well  and  good  ;    lock  me  out  if  you  like  ! ' 
'  It's  you  that  are  hard  to  please,  if  you  ask  me,'  she 
said.     «  There's  never  a  night  and  never  a  morning  but 
I'm  worried  out  of  my  life  lest  you  shall  be  thinking  of 
— this  summer.     You've  never  said  a  word  about  it, 
you  say.     Oh,  don't  you,  though  !     I'm  never  left  long 
in   peace   without   you    throwing   it    in    my   teeth.       I 
happened  to  say  "Hugo"  one  day,  by  a  slip  of  the 
tongue,  and  what  did  you  do  ?     You  might  have  been 
nice  and  comforted  me  to  help  me  over  it,  but  you  only 
scowled  and  said  you  were  not  Hugo.     No.     I  knew 
well  enough,  and  I  was  ever  so  sorry  to  have  said  it.' 
'  That's  just  the  point,'  said  the  Captain.      '  Were  you 
really  sorry  ?  '     «  Yes,  indeed,'  said  Fruen  ;  '  it  hurt  me 
ever  so.'      'Well,    I   shouldn't  have  thought  it;    you 
don't  seem  very  upset. about  it.'     « Ah,  but  what  about 


252  WANDERERS 

you  ?  Haven't  you  anything  to  be  sorry  for  ?  '  '  You've 
got  photos  of  Hugo  on  your  piano  still ;  I  haven't  seen 
you  move  them  away  yet,  though  I've  shown  you  not 
once  but  fifty  times  I  wished  you  to — yes,  and  begged 
you  to  do  it.'  '  Oh,  what  a  fuss  you  make  about  those 
photos  ! '  said  she.  '  Oh,  don't  make  any  mistake  ! 
I'm  not  asking  you  now.  If  you  went  and  shifted 
them  now,  it  would  make  no  difference.  I've  begged 
and  prayed  of  you  fifty  times  before.  Only,  I  think  it 
would  have  been  a  little  more  decent  if  you'd  burned 
them  the  day  you  came  home.  But,  instead  of  that, 
you've  books  here  lying  about  in  your  room  with  his 
name  in.  And  there's  a  handkerchief  with  his  initials 
on,  I  see.'  '  Oh,  it's  all  your  jealousy,'  answered 
Fruen.  '  I  can't  see  what  difference  it  makes.  I  can't 
kill  him,  as  you'd  like  me  to,  and  Papa  and  Mama  say 
the  same.  After  all,  I've  lived  with  him  and  been 
married  to  him.'  '  Married  to  him  ! '  '  Yes,  that's 
what  I  say.  It  isn't  everyone  that  looks  at  Hugo  and 
me  the  way  you  do.'  The  Captain  sat  awhile,  shaking 
his  head.  'And  it's  all  your  own  fault,  really,'  Fruen 
went  on,  '  the  way  you  drove  off  with  Elisabeth  that 
time,  though  I  came  and  asked  you  not  to  go.  It  was 
then  it  happened.  And  we'd  been  drinking  that  even- 
ing. I  didn't  quite  know  what  I  was  doing.'  Still,  the 
Captain  said  nothing  for  a  while  ;  then  at  last  he  said  : 
'Yes,  I  ought  not  to  have  gone  off  like  that.'  'No, 
but  you  did,'  said  Fruen,  and  started  crying  again. 
'  You  wouldn't  hear  a  word.  And  you're  always  throw- 
ing it  in  my  teeth  about  Hugo,  but  you  never  think  of 
what  you've  done  yourself.'  'There's  just  this  differ- 
ence,' says  the  Captain,  'that  I've  never  lived  with  the 
lady  you  mention,  never  been  married  to  her,  as  you 
call  it.'  Fruen  gave  a  little  scornful  laugh.  '  Never  ! ' 
said  the  Captain,  striking  the  table  with  his  hand. 
Fruen  gave  a  start,  and  sat  staring  at  him.  'Then  — 


WANDERERS  253 

I  don't  understand  why  you  were  always  running  after 
her  and  sitting-  out  in  the  summer-house  and  lurking 
in  corners,'  said  she.     '  It  was  you  that  sat  out  in  the 
summer-house,'  he  answered.     '  Oh  yes,  it's  always  me,' 
said  she.     '  Never  you  by  any  chance  ! '     'As  for  my 
running  after  Elisabeth,'  said  the  Captain,  'it  was  solely 
and  simply  in  the  hopes  of  getting  you  back.     You'd 
drifted  away  from  me,  and  I  wanted  you.'     Fruen  sat 
thinking  over  that  for  a  minute,  then  she  sprang  up  and 
threw  her  arms  around  him  and  said :  «  Oh,  then  you 
cared  for  me  all  the  time !     And  I  thought  it  was  all 
over.     You'd  drifted  away  from  me,  too  ;  it  was  years 
since.     And  it  all  seemed  so  hopeless.     I  never  thought 
—I  never  knew.  .  .  .   And  then  it  was  me  you  cared 
for  all  the  time  !     Oh,  my  dear,  then  it's  all  come  right 
again.'    '  Sit  down,'  said  he.     '  You  seem  to  forget  that 
something  else  has  happened  since. '     '  Something  else  ? ' 
'  There  you  are,  you've  forgotten  all  about  it.     May  I 
ask  you,  are  you  sorry  enough  for  what's  happened 
since  ? '      At  that  Fruen  turned  hard  again  and  said  : 
'  Oh,  you  mean  about  Hugo  ?     That's  done  and  can't 
be  altered.'     'That  doesn't  answer  the  question.'     'If 
I'm   sorry   enough?      What  about   you;    are  you    so 
innocent  yourself?'      At  this  the  Captain  got  up  and 
began  walking  up  and  down.      'The  trouble  is  that 
we've  no  children,'  said  Fruen.      '  I  haven't  a  daughter 
that  I  could  teach  and  bring  up  to  be  better  than   I 
am.'     'I've  thought  of  that,'  said  the  Captain;   'per- 
haps you're  right.'     Then  he  turned  straight  towards 
her  and  said  :   '  It's  a  nasty  crash  that's  come  over  us, 
Lovise— like  a  landslide.     But  don't  you  think  now  we 
might  set  to  work  and  shift  away  all  the  wreckage 
that's  been  burying  us  for  years,   and  get  clear  and 
breathe  again  ?      You    might  have   a  daughter   yet ! ' 
At  that  Fruen  got  up  and  made  as  if  to  say  something, 
but  couldn't.     *  Yes,'  was  all  she  said,  and  '  Yes,'  she 


254  WANDERERS 

said  again.  '  You're  tired  and  nervous,  I  know,'  he 
said.  '  But  think  a  little  over  what  I've  said.  Another 
time.'  'Good-night,'  said  she." 


XI 

The  Captain  spoke  to  Nils  about  the  timber ;  he 
thought  of  disposing  of  the  whole  lot,  or  selling  it 
standing.  Nils  took  this  to  mean  that  he  didn't  like 
the  idea  of  having  more  new  folk  about  the  place.  "It 
looks  like  things  are  as  bad  as  ever  with  him  and 
Fruen,"  said  Nils. 

We  are  getting  in  the  potatoes  now,  and  now  that 
we  are  thus  far  there  is  less  hurry  and  anxiety  about 
the  work.  But  there  is  still  much  to  be  done.  The 
ploughing  is  behindhand,  and  Lars  Falkenberg  and  I 
are  both  at  it,  field  and  meadow  land. 

Nils,  queer  creature  that  he  was,  began  to  find 
things  intolerable  at  Ovrebo  again,  and  talked  of 
throwing  up  his  place  and  going  off  altogether.  But 
he  couldn't  bear  the  disgrace  of  leaving  his  service 
like  that.  Nils  had  his  own  clear  notions  of  honour, 
handed  down  through  many  generations.  A  young 
man  from  a  big  farm  could  not  behave  like  a  lad  from 
a  cottar's  holding.  And  then  he  hadn't  been  here  long 
enough  yet ;  0vreb0  had  been  sadly  ill-managed  before 
he  came  :  it  would  take  some  years  to  bring  it  round 
again.  It  was  only  this  year,  when  he'd  had  more 
help  with  the  work,  that  he'd  been  able  to  do  anything 
properly.  But  from  now  onward  he  might  begin  to 
look  for  some  result  of  his  work  ;  look  at  this  year's 
harvest,  the  fine  heavy  grain  !  The  Captain,  too,  had 
looked  at  the  crops  with  wonder  and  thankfulness — 
the  first  time  for  many  years.  There  would  be  plenty 
to  sell. 

All  things  considered,  then,  it  was  senseless  for  Nils 


WANDERERS  255 

to  think  of  leaving  0vreb0.  But  he  must  go  home  for 
a  couple  of  days  to  his  people— they  lived  a  little  way 
north  of  us.  So  he  gave  himself  two  days'  leave  as 
soon  as  the  potatoes  were  all  out  of  the  ground.  No 
doubt  he'd  good  reason  for  going— perhaps  to  see  his 
sweetheart,  we  thought— and  when  he  came  back  he 
was  bright  and  full  of  energy  as  ever,  and  took  up 
work  again  at  once. 

We  were  sitting  at  dinner  in  the  kitchen  one  day 
when  out  comes  Fruen  from  the  front  door  of  the 
house,  and  goes  tearing  down  the  road,  all  wild  and 
excited.  Then  the  Captain  came  out,  calling  after 
her:  « Lovise,  what  is  it,  Lovise?  Where  are  you 
going?"  But  Fruen  only  called  back:  "Leave  me 
alone  !  " 

We  looked  at  one  another.  Ragnhild  rose  from  the 
table  ;  she  must  go  after  her  mistress,  she  said. 

"That's  right,"  said  Nils,  calm  as  ever.  "  But  go 
indoors  first  and  see  if  she's  moved  those  photographs." 

"  They  re  still  there,"  said  Ragnhild  as  she  went  out. 

Outside,  we  heard  the  Captain  telling  her  to  go  and 
look  after  her  mistress. 

There  was  no  one  but  took  thought  for  Fruen  in  her 
distress. 

We  went  out  to  the  fields  again.     Said  Nils  to  me : 

"She  ought  to  take  away  those  photos;  it's  not 
right  of  her  to  leave  them  there.  I  don't  know  what 
she  can  be  thinking  of  to  do  it." 

What  do  you  know  about  it  ?  I  thought  to  myself. 
3h,  I  was  so  clever  with  my  knowledge  of  the  world,' 
and  all  I'd  learned  on  my  wanderings,  I  thought  I 
would  try  him  now  ;  perhaps  he  was  only  showing  off 

I  can't  understand  why  the  Captain  hasn't  taken 
and  burnt  them  long  ago,"  said  I. 

"No,  that's  all  wrong,"  said  Nils.  "I  wouldn't 
have  done  that  either." 


256  WANDERERS 

"Oh,  indeed  !" 

"  It  wouldn't  be  for  me  to  do  it,  but  for  her." 

We  walked  on  a  little.  And  then  Nils  said  a  thing 
that  showed  his  sound  and  right  instinct. 

"Poor  lady!"  he  said.  "She's  not  got  over  that 
slip  of  hers  this  summer ;  it's  troubling  her  still, 
from  all  I  can  see,  there's  some  people  pick  up  again 
all  right  after  a  fall,  and  go  on  through  life  with  no 
more  than  the  mark  of  a  bruise.  But  there's  some 
that  never  get  over  it." 

"  Fruen  seems  to  be  taking  it  easy  enough,"  said  I, 
still  trying  him. 

"How  can  we  tell?  She's  been  unlike  herself, 
to  my  mind,  ever  since  she's  been  back,"  he  answered. 
"  She's  got  to  live,  of  course,  but  she's  lost  all 
harmony,  perhaps.  I  don't  know  much  about  it,  but 
harmony,  that's  what  I  mean.  Oh  yes,  she  can  eat 
and  laugh  and  sleep,  no  doubt,  but  ...  I  followed 
one  such  to  the  grave,  but  now  .  .  ." 

And  at  that  I  was  no  longer  cold  and  wise,  but 
foolish  and  ashamed,  and  only  said  : 

"  So  it  was  that  ?     She  died,  then  ?" 

"  Yes.  She  wished  it  so,"  said  Nils.  And  then 
suddenly  :  "  Well,  you  and  Lars  get  on  with  the 
ploughing.  We  ought  soon  to  be  through  with  things 
now." 

And  we  went  each  our  separate  way. 

I  thought  to  myself:  a  sister  of  his,  perhaps,  that 
had  gone  wrong,  and  he'd  been  home  and  followed 
her  to  the  grave.  Herregud!  there  are  some  that 
never  get  over  it  ;  it  shakes  them  to  their  founda- 
tions ;  a  revolution.  All  depends  on  whether 
they're  coarse  enough.  Only  the  mark  of  a  bruise, 
said  Nils.  A  sudden  thought  came  to  me,  and  1 
stopped  :  perhaps  it  was  not  his  sister,  but  his  sweet- 
heart. 


WANDERERS  257 

Some  association  of  ideas  led  me  to  think  of  my 
washing.     I  decided  to  send  the  lad  up  for  it. 

It  was  evening. 

Ragnhild  came  to  me  and  begged  me  to  keep  awake 
again  ;  there  was  dreadful  trouble  up  at  the  house. 
Ragnhild  herself  was  greatly  upset,  and  dared  not  sit 
anywhere  now  in  the  half-dark  but  upon  my  knees. 
It  was  always  so  with  her  ;  emotion  made  her  frightened 
and  tender— frightened  and  tender,  yes. 

"But  can  you  be  away  like  this?  Is  there  anyone 
in  your  place  in  the  kitchen  ?  "  I  asked. 

"Yes.  Cook's  going  to  listen  for  the  bell.  You 
know,  I  side  with  the  Captain,"  she  declared.  «  I've 
sided  with  him  all  along." 

"  Oh,  that's  only  because  he's  a  man." 
"  No,  it's  not." 

'  You'd  much  better  side  with  Fruen." 
'  You  only  say  that  because  she's  a  woman," 
answered  Ragnhild  in  her  turn.  «  But  you  don't  know 
all  I  do.  Fruen's  so  unreasonable.  We  didn't  care 
a  bit  about  her,  she  said,  and  left  her  all  to  herself, 
whatever  might  happen.  Did  you  ever  hear  such  a 
thing,  when  I'd  just  gone  after  her.  And  then  there's 
another  dreadful  thing.  ..." 

"  I  don't  want  to  hear  any  more,"  I  said. 
"  But  I  haven't  been  listening  outside— what  are  you 
thinking   of?      I    was   there   in   the   same   room,    and 
heard  them." 

"Did  you?  Well,  well,  stay  here  till  you've 
calmed  down  a  little  ;  then  we'll  go  and  find 
Nils." 

And  so  frightened  and  tender  was  Ragnhild  that  she 
threw  her  arms  round  me  because  I  was  kind  to  her. 
A  strange  girl ! 

Then  we  went  down^to  Nils. 
17 


a 


258  WANDERERS 

"  Ragnhild    thinks   that   somebody   ought   to    keep 
awake  for  a  bit,"  I  said. 

"Yes,"  said  Ragnhild.  "Oh,  it's  so  dreadful — 
worse  than  ever  it's  been !  Heaven  knows  what  the 
Captain  '11  do  !  Perhaps  he  won't  go  to  bed  at  all.  Oh, 
she's  fond  of  him  and  he's  fond  of  her,  too;  only, 
everything's  all  wrong !  When  she  went  running  off 
like  that  to-day,  the  Captain  was  standing  outside  the 
house,  and  said  to  me :  '  Go  and  look  after  your 
mistress,  Ragnhild,'  and  I  went  after  her,  and  there 
she  was,  standing  behind  a  tree  down  the  road,  and  she 
just  stood  there,  crying,  and  smiled  at  me.  I  tried  to 
get  her  to  come  in  again,  but  she  said  we  didn't  care 
about  her  ;  it  didn't  matter  where  she  went.  '  The 
Captain  sent  me  after  you,'  said  I.  '  Did  he,  though  ?  ' 
she  asked.  'Now?  Was  it  just  now?'  'Yes,'  said  I. 
'  Wait,  then,'  she  said,  and  stood  quite  a  while.  '  Take 
those  hateful  books  that  are  lying  in  my  room  and 
burn  them,'  she  said  ;  and  then  :  '  Oh  no,  I'll  do  it 
myself,  but  I'll  ring  for  you  after  supper,  and  then  you 
must  come  up  at  once.'  '  I  will,'  said  I,  and  then  I 
got  her  to  come  in." 

"  And  you  know,"  said  Ragnhild  suddenly,  "  she's 
going  to  have  a  child." 

We  looked  at  one  another.  Nils'  face  grew,  as  it 
were,  veiled  beneath  a  film  of  something  indistinct. 
All  expression  faded,  the  eyes  asleep.  But  why  should 
it  affect  him  so  ?  For  the  sake  of  saying  something, 
I  turned  to  Ragnhild  and  asked  : 

"  Fruen  was  going  to  ring  for  you,  you  said  ?  " 

"Yes,  and  so  she  did.  There  was  something  she 
wanted  to  tell  the  Captain,  but  she  was  afraid,  and 
wanted  to  have  me  there.  '  Light  a  candle  and  pick 
up  all  this  host  of  buttons  I've  upset/  she  said.  And 
then  she  called  out  to  the  Captain  in  his  room.  I  lit 
the  candle  and  began  picking  up  buttons  ;  dozens  of 


WANDERERS 


them  there  were,   all  sorts.      The   Captain   came   in. 
I  only  wanted  to  tell  you,'  says  Fruen  at  once,  'that 
t  was  kind  of  you  to  send  Ragnhild  after  me  to-day 
Heaven  bless  you  for  that  !  '     <  Never  mind  about  that! 
my  dear,    says  he.     '  You  were  nervous,  you  know.' 
Yes,   Im  all  nerves  just  now,'  she  answered,    'but 
hope  :  lt  11   get  better  in  time.      No,   the   trouble   is 
that  I  haven  t  a  daughter  I  could  bring  up  to  be  really 
good.     There  s  nothing  I  can  do  !  '     The  Captain  sat 
down  on  a  chair.     •  Oh  yes,  there  is,'  he  said      'Yes 
you  say?     Oh,  I  know  it  says  in  that  book  there 
3h    those  hateful  books  !-Ragnhild,  take  them  away 
and  burn  them,'  she  says.     •  No,  wait,  I'll  tear  them  to 
>its  now  myself  and  put  them  in  the  stove  here.'     And 
then  she  started  pulling  them  to  pieces,  taking  ever  so 
many  pages  at  a  time  and  throwing  them  in  the  stove 
Don  t     be    so    excited,    Lovise,'    said    the    Captain! 
The  Nunnery,    she  said-that  was  one  of  the  books. 

A  Cx£u  g°  Int°  a  nunnery-  There's  nothing  I 
can  do.  When  I  laugh,  you  think  I'm  laughing,'  she 
said  to  the  Captain,  'but  I'm  miserable  all  the  time 
and  not  laughing  a  bit.'  'Is  your  toothache  any 
>  er?  he  asked.  'Oh,  that  toothache  won't  be 
better  for  a  long  time  to  come  !  '  she  said  ;  <  you  know 

hat  well  enough.'     '  No,  indeed,  I  don't.'     'You  don't 
knOW?'     <No.'     'But,  heavens  I  can't  you  see  what's 

he  matter  wzth  me?  'said  Fruen.     The  Captain  only 
ooked  at  her  and  did  not  answer.     '  I'm-oh"  you  said 
to-day  I  rmght  have  a  daughter  after  all,   don't  yo 

''        haen 


..  . 

Ragnhild  smiled  and  shook  her  head;  then  she  went  on 

leaven  forg!ve  me  for  smiling,  but  the  Captain's 

face  was  so  queer  ;  he  stood  there  like  a  sheep.    'Didn't 

you  guess  as  much  before  ?  '  asked  Fruen.    The  Captain 

looked  over  at  me  and  said  :  '  What's  that  you're  doing 


260  WANDERERS 

there  all  this  time  ? '  'I  asked  her  to  pick  up  those 
buttons  for  me,'  said  Fruen.  'I've  finished  now,'  said 
I.  *  Have  you?  '  said  Fruen,  getting-  up.  '  Let  me  see.' 
And  she  took  the  box  and  dropped  them  again  all  over 
the  floor.  Oh,  they  went  rolling  all  over  the  place, 
under  the  table,  under  the  bed  and  the  stove  !  '  There, 
now,  did  you  ever  see  such  a  mess  ?  '  said  Fruen.  But 
then  she  went  off  again  at  once  talking  about  herself, 
and  said  again :  '  But  I  can't  understand  you  didn't  see 
I  was — didn't  see  what  was  the  matter  with  me.' 
'Can't  those  buttons  wait  till  to-morrow?'  said  the 
Captain.  '  Why,  yes,  perhaps  they  can,'  said  Fruen. 
'  But  then  I'll  be  treading  on  them  everywhere.  I 
can't  .  .  .  I'm  rather  afraid  of  stooping  just  now.  .  .  . 
But,  never  mind,  we'll  leave  them  for  now,'  she  said, 
and  stroked  his  hand.  'Oh,  my  dear,  my  dear!'  she 
says.  But  he  drew  his  hand  away.  '  Oh,  so  you're 
angry  with  me ! '  she  said.  '  But  then,  why  did  you 
write  and  ask  me  to  come  back  ?  '  '  My  dear  Lovise, 
we're  not  alone  here,'  he  says.  '  But  surely  you  must 
know  what  made  you  write?'  '  I  suppose  it  was  because 
I  hoped  things  would  come  right  again.'  'And  they 
didn't?'  'Well,  no!'  'But  what  was  in  your  mind 
when  you  wrote  ?  Were  you  thinking  of  me  ?  Did  you 
want  me  again  ?  I  can't  make  out  what  was  in  your 
mind.'  '  Ragnhild's  finished,  I  see,'  said  the  Captain. 
'  Good-night,  Ragnhild  ! '  " 

"And  then  you  came  away  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  I  dare  not  go  far  because  of  Fruen.  You 
may  be  sure  it  wasn't  nice  for  her  when  I  was  out  of 
the  room,  so  I  had  to  be  somewhere  at  hand.  And  if 
the  Captain  had  come  and  found  me  and  said  anything, 
I'd  have  told  him  straight  out  I  wasn't  going  farther 
away  with  Fruen  in  the  state  she  was.  As  it  happened, 
he  didn't  come  at  all,  but  they  began  again  in  there. 
'  I  know  what  you're  thinking  of,'  said  Fruen — '  that 


WANDERERS  261 

perhaps  it's  not  ...  it  wouldn't  be  your  child.  Oh 
yes,  indeed  it  might  be  so !  But,  God  knows,  I  can't 
find  words  this  moment  to  make  you  forgive  me  ! '  she 
said,^  all  crying.  '  Oh,  my  dear,  forgive  me,  forgive 
me ! '  said  Fruen,  and  went  down  on  her  knees  on  the 
floor.  '  You've  seen  what  I  did  with  the  books,  and  that 
handkerchief  with  the  initials  on— I  burnt  that  before, 
and  the  books,  you  know.  .  .  .'  '  Yes,  and  here's  another 
handkerchief  with  the  same  initials  on,'  says  the  Captain. 
'  Oh,  heavens  !  yes,  you're  ever  so  considerate,  Lovise.' 
Fruen  was  all  upset  at  that.  'I'm  sorry  you  should 
have  seen  it,'  she  said.  'It  must  be  one  I  brought 
back  with  me  when  I  came  home.  I  haven't  looked 
through  my  things  properly  since.  But  does  it  really 

matter  so   very   much?     Surely '      'Oh   no,'   said 

he.     'And  if  you'd  only  listen  to  me,'  she  went  on, 

'  I'm  almost  certain  it's  you  that  ...  I   mean,   that 

the  child  is  yours.     Why  should  it  not  be?      Oh,   I 

don't  know  how  to  say  it!'      'Sit  down  again,'  said 

the  Captain.      But  Fruen  must  have  misunderstood  ; 

she  got   up  and  said:    'There  you  are!     You  won't 

listen  to  me.     Really,  I  can't  make  out  why  you  ever 

wrote  to  me  at  all.     You  might  just  as  well  have  left 

me  alone.'      Then  the  Captain  said  something  about 

being  in  prison  ;  if  a  man  grew  up  in  a  prison  yard,  he 

said,  and  you  take  him  out,  he'll  long  to  be  back  in  his 

prison  yard  again,  he  said.     It  was  something  like  that, 

anyway.      '  Yes,  but  I  was  with  Papa  and  Mama,  and 

they   weren't   hard   like   you;    they   said   I    had   been 

married  to  him,  and  weren't  unkind  to  me  at  all.     It 

isn't  everyone  that  looks  at  things  like  you  do.'      '  You 

don't  want  that  candle  alight  now  Ragnhild's  gone,  do 

you  ?  '  said  the  Captain.     '  It  looks  so  out  of  place  to 

have  it  burning  there  beside  the  lamp— as  if  it  were 

ashamed.'     '  Ashamed  of  me,'  she  says  quickly.      'Oh 

yes,  that  was  what  you  meant.      But  you've  been  to 


262  WANDERERS 

blame  as  well.'  '  Don't  misunderstand  me,'  he  says. 
'  I  know  I've  been  to  blame.  But  that  doesn't  make 
your  part  any  better.'  '  Oh,  you  think  not?  Well,  of 
all  the  ...  So  yours  doesn't  count,  then  ? '  '  Yes,  I 
say  I've  been  to  blame,  not  in  the  way  you  mean,  but 
in  other  ways — in  old  thing's  and  new.'  '  Oh,  indeed  !  ' 
'  Yes,  but  I  don't  come  home  bringing1  the  fruits  of  it 
under  my  heart  to  you.'  '  No,'  says  Fruen,  '  but  you 
know  it  was  you  all  along  that  wouldn't  .  .  .  that 
didn't  want  us  to  have  children.  And  1  didn't  want  it, 
either,  but  you  ought  to  have  known  better.  And  they 
said  the  same  thing  at  home.  If  only  I'd  had  a 
daughter.  .  .  .'  '  Oh,  don't  let's  go  over  all  that 
again,'  says  the  Captain — he  called  it  something  or 
other — a  romance,  I  think  it  was.  '  But  it's  true,'  says 
Fruen,  '  and  I  can't  think  how  you  can  deny  it.'  '  I'm 
not  denying  anything.  Do  sit  down,  now,  Lovise,  and 
listen  to  me.  All  this  about  having  children,  and  a 
daughter  to  bring  up  and  so  on,  it's  something  you've 
picked  up  lately.  And  you  snatched  at  the  idea  at 
once,  to  save  yourself.  But  you  never  said  a  word 
about  wanting  children  before — not  that  I  ever  heard.' 
'  Yes,  but  you  ought  to  have  known  better.'  '  There 
again,  that's  something  you've  heard,  something  new. 
But  it  doesn't  matter  :  quite  possibly  things  might  have 
been  different  if  we'd  had  children.  I  can  see  that 
myself  now,  but  now  it's  too  late,  more's  the  pity.  And 
here  you  are  now — like  that.  .  .  .'  '  Oh,  heavens,  yes  ! 
But  I  tell  you  it  may  be  yours  after  all — I  don't 
know.  .  .  .  Oh!  .  .  .'  'Mine?'  said  the  Captain, 
shaking  his  head.  '  Well,  the  mother  should  be  the 
one  to  know.  But  in  this  case,  it  seems,  she  doesn't. 
The  woman  I'm  married  to  doesn't  know — or  do  you  ?  ' 
But  Fruen  did  not  answer.  '  Do  you  know  ?  I  ask 
you ! '  Oh,  but  again  she  could  not  answer,  only 
slipped  down  to  the  floor  again  and  cried.  Really,  I 


WANDERERS  263 

don't  know — but  perhaps  I'm  on  her  side  after  all  ;  it 
was  dreadful  for  her,  poor  thing.     And  then  I  was  just 
going  to  knock  at  the  door  and  go  in,  but  then  the 
Captain  went  on  again.     '  You  can't  say  it,'  he  said. 
'  But  that's  an  answer  in  itself,  and  plain  enough.'      '  I 
can't  say   more,'  said   Fruen.      She  was   still  crying. 
'  I'm  fond  of  you  for  lots  of  things,  Lovise,'  says  the 
Captain,   'and  one  of  them's  because  you're  truthful.' 
'  Thank  you,'  she  says.     '  They  haven't  taught  you  to 
lie   as   yet.      Get   up,   now.'     And   he   helped   her   up 
himself,  and  set  her  in  the  chair.     But  it  was  pitiful  to 
see  her  crying  so.     '  Don't  cry,  now,'  he  says.     '  I  want 
to  ask  you  something.    Shall  we  wait  and  see  what  it's 
like  when  it  comes — what  sort  of  eyes  it  has,  and  so 
on  ? '     '  Oh,  heaven  bless  you,  yes,  if  you  would  !     Oh, 
my  dear,  God  bless  you,  God  bless  you ! '     '  And  I'll 
try  to  bear  with  things  as  they  are.       It's  an  aching 
misery  all   the  time,   but   I'll   try.     And   I've  been  to 
blame  as  well.'     '  God  bless  you,  God  bless  you ! '  she 
said  again.       'And  you,'  he  said.       'And  now  good- 
night until  to-morrow.'     Then  Fruen  leaned  down  over 
the  table  and  cried  and  cried  so  dreadfully.      '  What 
are  you  crying  for  now?'  he  asked.     'You're  going,' 
she  said.     '  Oh,  I  was  afraid  of  you  before,  but  now  I 
can't  bear  to  be  without  you !     Couldn't  you  stay  a 
little  ?  '     '  Stay  here,  with  you,  now  ?  '  he  asked.     '  Oh 
no,  I  didn't  mean  ...  it  wasn't  that  .  .  .  only,  it's  so 
lonely.     I  didn't  mean  .  .  .'     '  No,'  said   the  Captain. 
'  You   can   understand    I    don't   feel   like   staying  any 
longer  now.     Ring  for  the  maid  ! ' ' 

"And  then  I  had  to  run,"  Ragnhild  concluded. 

Said  Nils,  after  a  while:  "Have  they  gone  to  bed 
now  ?  " 

Ragnhild  could  not  say.  Yes.  Perhaps.  Anyhow, 
Cook  was  there  in  case.  "  But,  only  think  of  it,  how 
dreadful !  I  don't  suppose  Fruen  can  sleep." 


264  WANDERERS 

"You'd  better  go  and  see  if  there's  anything  you 
can  do." 

"  Yes,"  said  Ragnhild,  getting  up.  "  But  I  side 
with  the  Captain  after  all,  and  no  mistake,  whatever 
you  say.  Yes,  that  I  do." 

"  It's  none  so  easy  to  know  what's  right." 

"  Only  think  of  letting  that  engineer  creature  .  .  . 
How  she  ever  could,  I  don't  know  !  And  then  to  go 
down  and  stay  with  him  there,  after,  as  she  did  ;  what 
a  thing  to  do  !  And  she's  all  those  handkerchiefs  of 
his,  ever  so  many,  and  a  lot  of  her  own  are  gone  ;  I 
suppose  they  used  each  other's  anyhow.  Lived  with 
him,  she  said  !  And  she  with  a  husband  of  her 
own  !  " 


XII 

The  Captain  has  done  as  he  said  about  the  timber  ; 
there's  a  cracking  and  crashing  in  the  woods  already. 
And  a  mild  autumn,  too,  with  no  frost  in  the  ground 
as  yet  to  stop  the  ploughing  ;  Nils  grasps  at  the  time 
like  a  miser,  to  save  as  much  as  possible  next  spring. 

Now  comes  the  question  whether  Grindhusen  and  I 
are  to  work  on  the  timber.  It  crosses  my  mind  that 
I  had  intended  really  to  go  off  for  a  tramp  up  in  the 
hills  and  over  the  moors  while  the  berries  were  there  ; 
what  about  that  journey  now?  And  another  thing, 
Grindhusen  was  no  longer  worth  his  keep  as  a  wood- 
cutter ;  he  could  hold  one  end  of  a  saw,  but  that  was 
about  all  he  was  good  for  now. 

No,  for  Grindhusen  was  changed  somehow ;  devil 
knows  how  it  had  come  about.  He  had  not  grown 
bald  at  all ;  his  hair  was  there,  and  thick  and  red  as 
ever.  But  he  had  picked  up  a  deal  at  0vreb0,  and 
went  about  bursting  with  health  and  good  feeding ; 
well  off  here  ?  He  had  sent  good  sums  of  money  home 


WANDERERS  265 

to  his  family  all  that  summer  and  autumn,  and  was 
full  of  praise  for  Captain  and  Fruen,  who  paid  such 
good  wages  and  treated  their  folk  so  well.  Not  like 
the  Inspector,  that  weighed  and  counted  every  miserable 
Shilling,  and  then,  as  true  as  God's  in  heaven,  go  and 
take  off  two  Kroner  that  he'd  given  as  clear  as  could 
be  ...  ugh!  He,  Grindhusen,  was  not  the  man  to 
make  a  fuss  about  a  wretched  two  Kroner,  as  long 
as  it  was  a  matter  of  any  sense  or  reason,  but  to  go 
and  take  it  off  like  that-; fy  Fan!  Would  you  ever 
find  the  Captain  doing  such  a  thing? 

But   Grindhusen  was  grown  so  cautious  now,   and 
wouldn't  even  get  properly  angry  with  anyone.     Even 
yet,    perhaps,    he   might   go   back   and   work   for   the 
Inspector    on    the   river   at   two    Kroner   a   day,    and 
humbly  agree  with   all  his  master  said.     Age,   time, 
had  overtaken  him. 
It  overtakes  us  all. 
Said  the  Captain  : 

"That  water-supply  you  spoke  about— is  it  too  late 
to  do  anything  with  it  this  year  ?  " 
"  Yes,"  I  answered. 
The  Captain  nodded  and  walked  away. 
I  ploughed  one  day  more,  then  the  Captain  came  to 
me  again.     He  was  out  and  about  everywhere  these 
days,   working  hard,   keeping   an    eye  on   everything. 
He  gave  himself  barely  time  for  a  proper  meal,  but 
was  out  again  at   once,   in   the  fields,   the  barn,   the 
cattle-sheds,  or  up  in  the  woods  where  the  men  were 
at  work. 

;<  You'd  better  get  to  work  on  that  water-supply," 
he  said.  "The  ground's  workable  still,  and  may  stay 
so  for  a  long  time  yet.  What  help  will  you  want  ?  "  ' 

'Grindhusen  can  help,"  I  said.      "  But 

'  Yes,  and  Lars.     What  were  you  going  to  say  ?  " 

4  The  frost  may  set  in  any  day  now." 


266  WANDERERS 

"  Well,  and  then  it  may  snow  and  soften  the  ground 
again.  We're  not  frost-bound  here  every  year,"  said 
the  Captain.  "You'd  better  take  a  few  extra  hands, 
and  set  some  of  them  to  digging,  the  rest  to  the 
masonry  work.  You've  done  all  this  before,  I  think 
you  said  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"And  I've  spoken  to  Nils  myself,"  he  said,  with  a 
smile.  "So  you'll  have  no  trouble  in  that  way.  You 
can  put  the  horses  in  now." 

So  bravely  cheerful  he  was,  I  could  not  help  feeling 
the  same,  and  wanted  to  begin  at  once  ;  I  hurried  back 
with  the  horses,  almost  at  a  run.  The  Captain  seemed 
quite  eager  about  this  water-supply,  now  that  the 
place  looked  so  nice  with  its  new  paint,  and  after  the 
fine  harvest  we'd  had.  And  now  he  was  cutting  a 
thousand  dozen  battens  in  the  woods,  to  pay  off  his 
debts  and  leave  something  over  I 

So  I  went  off  up  the  rising  ground,  and  found  the 
old  place  I  had  marked  down  long  before  for  the 
reservoir,  took  the  depth  down  to  the  house,  pacing 
and  measuring  this  way  and  that.  There  was  a 
streamlet  came  down  from  the  hillside  far  above,  with 
such  a  depth  and  fall  that  it  never  froze  in  winter ; 
the  thing  would  be  to  build  a  small  stone  reservoir 
here,  with  openings  at  the  sides  for  the  overflow  in 
autumn  and  spring.  Oh,  but  they  should  have  their 
water-supply  at  0vreb0  1  As  for  the  masonry  work, 
we  could  break  out  our  stone  on  the  site  itself ;  there 
was  layer  on  layer  of  granite  there. 

By  noon  next  day  we  were  hard  at  work,  Lars 
Falkenberg  digging  the  trench  for  the  pipe  -  line, 
Grindhusen  and  I  getting  stone.  We  were  both  well 
used  to  this  work  from  the  days  when  we  had  been 
road-making  together  at  Skreia. 

Well  and  good. 


WANDERERS  267 

We  worked  four  days ;  then  it  was  Sunday.  I 
remember  that  Sunday,  the  sky  clear  and  far,  the  leaves 
all  fallen  in  the  woods,  and  the  hillside  showing  only 
its  calm  winter  green  ;  smoke  rose  from  the  chimney 
up  in  the  clearing.  Lars  had  borrowed  a  horse  and  cart 
that  afternoon  to  drive  in  to  the  station  ;  he  had  killed 
a  pig  and  was  sending  it  in  to  town.  He  was  to  fetch 
letters  for  the  Captain  on  the  way  back. 

It  occurred  to  me  that  this  evening  would  be  a  good 
time  to  send  the  lad  up  to  the  clearing  for  my  washing : 
Lars  was  away,  and  no  one  could  take  offence  at  that 
washing  business  now. 

Oh  yes,  I  said  to  myself,  you're  very  careful  to  do 
what's  right  and  proper,  sending  the  lad  up  to  fetch 
that  washing.  But  you'll  find  it  isn't  that  at  all. 
Right  and  proper,  indeed  ;  you're  getting  old,  that's 
what  it  is. 

I  bore  with  this  reproach  for  an  hour.  Then — well, 
it  was  all  nonsense,  like  as  not,  and  here  was  a  lovely 
evening,  and  Sunday  into  the  bargain,  nothing  to  do, 
no  one  to  talk  to  down  here.  .  .  .  Getting  old,  was  I  ? 
Afraid  of  the  walk  uphill  ? 
And  I  went  up  myself. 

Early  next  morning  Lars  Falkenbergcame  over  again. 
He  drew  me  aside,  as  he  had  done  once  before,  and 
with  the  same  intent:   I  had  been  up  at  the  clearing 
yesterday,  it  seemed  ;  it  was  to  be  the  last  time,  and 
would  I  please  to  make  no  mistake  about  that ! 
"  It  was  the  last  of  my  washing,  anyhow,"  I  said. 
"  Oh,  you  and  your  washing  !     As  if  I  couldn't  have 
brought  along  your  miserable  shirt  a  hundred  times 
since  you've  been  here  !  " 

Now,  by  what  sort  of  magic  had  he  got  to  know  of 
my  little  walk  up  there  already  ?  Ragnhild,  of  course, 
at  her  old  tricks  again — it  could  be  no  one  else. 
There  was  no  doing  anything  with  that  girl. 


268  WANDERERS 

But  now,  as  it  happened,  Nils  was  at  hand  this  time, 
as  he  had  been  the  time  before.  He  came  strolling 
over  innocently  from  the  kitchen,  and  in  a  moment 
Lars'  anger  was  turned  upon  him  instead. 

"  Here's  the  other  scarecrow  coming  up,  too,"  says 
Lars,  "  and  he's  a  long  sight  worse  than  you." 

"  What's  that  you  say  ?  "  said  Nils. 

"What's  that  you  say!"  retorted  Lars.  "  You  go 
home  and  rinse  your  mouth  with  a  mixture  or  some- 
thing, and  see  if  you  can  talk  plain,"  said  he. 

Nils  stopped  short  at  this,  and  came  up  to  see  what 
it  was  all  about. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you're  talking  about,"  said  he. 

"  No,  of  course  not.  You  don't  know  anything 
that's  any  sense.  But  you  know  all  about  ploughing 
in  standing  crops,  don't  you  ?  There's  not  many  can 
beat  you  at  that." 

But  here  Nils  grew  angry  for  once,  and  his  cheeks 
paled. 

"What  an  utter  fool  you  are,  Lars!  Can't  you 
keep  your  mouth  shut  with  that  nonsense  ?  " 

"Fool,  eh?  Hark  at  the  silly  goat!"  said  Lars, 
turning  to  me.  "  Thinks  himself  mighty  fine,  doesn't 
he?  '  Utter,'  he  says — and  goes  white  about  it.  I've 
been  more  years  than  you  at  0vreb0,  and  asked  in  to 
sing  up  at  the  house  of  an  evening  more  than  once,  let 
me  tell  you.  But  things  have  changed  since  then,  and 
what  have  we  got  instead?  You  remember,"  he  said, 
turning  to  me,  "what  it  was  like  in  the  old  days.  It 
was  Lars  here  and  Lars  there,  and  I  never  heard  but 
the  work  got  done  all  right.  And  after  me  it  was 
Albert,  that  was  here  for  eighteen  months.  But  then 
you,  Nils,  came  along,  and  now  it's  toil  and  moil  and 
ploughing  and  carting  manure  day  and  night,  till  a 
man's  worn  to  a  thread  with  it  all." 

Nils  and   I   could   not  help  laughing  at  this.      And 


WANDERERS  269 

Lars  was  in  no  way  offended  ;  he  seemed  quite  pleased 
at  having-  said  something  funny,  and,  forgetting  his 
ill-will,  joined  in  the  laugh  himself. 

"Yes,  I  say  it  straight  out,"  said  he.     "And  if  it 
wasn't  for  you  being  a  friendly  sort  between  whiles— no, 
friendly  I  won't  say,  but  someways  decent  and  to  get  on 
with  after  a  fashion  .   .   .  if  it  wasn't  for  that  .   .   ." 
"Well,  what  then?" 

Lars  was  getting  more  and   more  good  humoured. 
"Oh,"  he  said,  with  a  laugh,   "  I  could  just  pick  you 
up  and  stuff  you  down  in  your  own  long  boots." 
"  Like  to  feel  my  arm  ?  "  said  Nils. 
"  What's  going  on  here  ?  "  asked  the  Captain,  coming 
up.     It  was  only  six  o'clock,  but  he  was  out  and  about 
already. 

"  Nothing,"  said  Lars  and  Nils  as  well. 
"  How's  the  reservoir  getting  on?"  asked  the  Cap- 
tain.    This  was  to  me,  but  before  I  could  answer  he 
turned  to  Nils.     "  I  shall  want  the  boy  to  drive  me  to 
the  station,"  he  said.      "  I'm  going  to  Christiania." 

Grindhusen  and  I  went  off  to  our  work  on  the  reser- 
voir, and  Lars  to  his  digging.  But  a  shadow  seemed 
to  have  fallen  over  us  all. 

Grindhusen  himself  said  openly  :  "  Pity  the  Captain's 
going  away." 

I  thought  so,  too.  But  he  was  obliged  to  go  in  on 
business,  no  doubt.  There  were  the  crops  as  well  as 
the  timber  to  be  sold.  But  why  should  he  start  at  that 
hour  of  the  day  ?  He  couldn't  catch  the  early  train  in 
any  case.  Had  there  been  trouble  again  ?  Was  he 
anxious  to  be  out  of  the  way  before  Fruen  got  up  ? 

Trouble  there  was,  often  enough. 

It  had  gone  so  far  by  this  time  that  the  Captain  and 
Fruen  hardly  spoke  to  one  another,  and  whenever  they 
did  exchange  a  word  it  was  in  a  careless  tone,  and 


270  WANDERERS 

looking  all  the  other  way.  Now  and  again  the  Captain 
would  look  his  wife  properly  in  the  face,  and  say  she 
ought  to  be  out  more  in  the  lovely  air  ;  and  once  when 
she  was  outside  he  asked  if  she  wouldn't  come  in  and 
play  a  little.  But  this,  perhaps,  was  only  to  keep  up 
appearances,  no  more. 

It  was  pitiful  to  see. 

Fruen  was  quiet  and  nice.  Now  and  again  she 
would  stand  outside  on  the  steps  looking  out  towards 
the  hills  ;  so  soft  her  features  were,  and  her  reddish 
yellow  hair.  But  it  was  dull  for  her  now — no  visitors,  no 
music  and  entertaining,  nothing  but  sorrow  and  shame. 

The  Captain  had  promised  to  bear  with  things  as 
they  were,  and  surely  he  was  bearing  all  he  could. 
But  he  could  do  no  more.  Disaster  had  come  to  the 
home,  and  the  best  will  in  the  world  could  not  shoulder 
it  off.  If  Fruen  happened  to  be  hasty,  as  she  might 
now  and  then,  and  forgot  to  be  grateful,  the  Captain 
would  look  down  at  the  floor,  and  it  would  not  be  long 
before  he  put  on  his  hat  and  went  out.  All  the  maids 
knew  about  it,  and  I  had  seen  it  myself  once  or  twice. 
He  never  forgot  what  she  had  done — how  could  he? — 
though  he  could  keep  from  speaking  of  it.  But  could 
he  keep  from  speaking  of  it  when  she  forgot  herself  and 
said  : 

"  You  know  I'm  not  well  just  now  ;  you  know  I  can't 
walk  far  like  I  used  to  I  " 

"  S — sh,  Lovise  I  "  he  would  say,  with  a  frown.  And 
then  the  mischief  was  there  as  bad  as  ever. 

"  Oh,  of  course  you  must  bring  that  up  again  !  " 

"  No,  indeed  1  It's  you  that  brought  it  up  yourself 
You've  lost  all  sense  of  modesty,  I  think  ;  you  seem  to 
have  no  shame  left." 

"Oh,  I  wish  I'd  never  come  back  at  all!  I  was 
better  off  at  home  !  " 

"  Yes,  or  living  with  that  puppy,  I  dare  say." 


WANDERERS  271 

"You  said  he'd  helped  you  once  yourself.  And  I 
often  wish  I  were  back  there  with  him  again.  Hugo's 
a  great  deal  better  than  you  are." 

She  was  all  irresponsible  in  her  words,  going,  per- 
haps, further  than  she  meant.     But  she  was  changed 
out  of  knowledge  to  us  all,  and  spoiled  and  shameless 
now.     Fru  Falkenberg  shameless  !     Nay,  perhaps  not ; 
who  could  say  ?     Yet  she  was  not  ashamed  to  come  out 
in  the  kitchen  of  an  evening  and  say  nice  things  to  Nils 
about  how  young  and  strong  he  was.     I  was  jealous 
again,  no  doubt,  and  envied  Nils  for  his  youth,  for  I 
thought  to  myself:  Is  everyone  gone  mad?     Surely  we 
older  ones  are  far  to  be  preferred  !     Was  it  his  inno- 
cence that  attracted  her  ?     Or  was  she  merely  trying  to 
keep  up  her  spirits  a  little — trying  to  be  younger  than 
she  was  ?     But  then  one  day  she  came  up  to  the  reser- 
voir where  Grindhusen  and  I  were  at  work,  and  sat 
watching  us  for  a  while.     It  was  easy  work  then  for 
half  an  hour  ;  the  granite  turned  pliable,  and  yielded  to 
our  will  ;  we  built  away  like  giants.     Oh,  but  Fruen 
sat  there  irresponsible  as   ever,  letting  her  eyes  play 
this  way  and  that.     Why  could  she  not  rid  herself  of 
this  new  habit  of  hers  ?     Her  eyes  were  too  earnest  for 
such  playing  ;  it  did  not  suit  her.     I  thought  to  myself, 
either  she  was  trying  to  make  up  for  her  foolishness 
towards  Nils  by  favouring  us  in  turn,  or  starting  a  new 
game   altogether— which    would   it   be?     I   could   not 
make  it  out,  and  as  for  Grindhusen,  he  saw  nothing  in 
it  at  all,  but  only  said,  when  Fruen  had  gone  :  "  Eh, 
she's  a  strange  kind-hearted  soul,  is  Fruen.     Almost 
like  a  mother.     Only  fancy  going  and  feeling  if  the 
water  wasn't  too  cold  for  us  !  " 

One    day,    when    I    was    standing   by   the   kitchen 
entrance,  she  said  : 

"  Do  you  remember  the  old  days  here — when  you  first 
came  ?  " 


272  WANDERERS 

She  had  never  once  spoken  of  this  till  now,  and  I  did 
not  know  what  to  say.  I  stammered  out :  Yes,  I 
remembered. 

"You  drove  me  down  to  the  Vicarage  once,"  she 
said. 

Then  I  half  fancied  that  perhaps  she  was  not 
disinclined  to  talk  to  me  and  occupy  her  mind  a 
little  ;  I  felt  I  must  help  -her,  make  it  easier  for  her. 
And  perhaps  I  was  a  little  touched  myself  at  the 
thought. 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  "  I  remember.  It  was  a  glorious 
drive.  But  Fruen  must  have  found  it  cold  towards  the 
last." 

"It  was  you  that  must  have  felt  cold,"  she  answered. 
"  You  lent  me  your  own  rug  from  the  box.  Oh,  you 
poor  thing !  " 

I  was  even  more  moved  at  this,  and  foolish  ideas 
came  into  my  head.  Ah,  then  she  had  not  forgotten 
me  !  The  few  years  that  had  passed  since  then  had  not 
made  so  much  difference  in  me  after  all ! 

"  Fruen  must  be  mistaken  about  the  rug,  I  think," 
said  I.  "  But  I  remember  we  stopped  at  a  cottage  to 
eat,  and  the  woman  made  coffee,  and  you  gave  me 
things  yourself." 

As  I  spoke,  I  leaned  up  against  the  fence,  with  my 
arms  round  a  post.  Perhaps  this  somehow  offended 
her,  looking  as  if  I  expected  her  to  stand  gossiping 
there  with  me.  And  then  I  had  said,  "  We  stopped  at 
a  cottage,"  as  if  we  had  been  equals.  It  was  a  bad 
mistake  on  my  part,  of  course,  but  I  had  got  a  little 
out  of  hand  after  all  these  vagabond  months. 

I  stood  up  straight  again  the  moment  I  saw  she  was 
displeased,  but  it  was  too  late.  She  was  just  as  kind 
as  ever,  but  she  had  grown  suspicious  and  easily  hurt 
with  all  her  trouble,  and  found  rudeness  in  what  was 
merely  awkwardness  of  mine. 


WANDERERS  27  3 

"Well,  well,"  she  said,  "  I  hope  you  find  yourself  as 
comfortable  now  at  0vreb0  as  before." 
And  she  nodded  and  walked  away. 

Some  days  passed.  The  Captain  had  not  come  back, 
but  he  had  sent  a  post  card,  with  a  kind  message,  to 
Fruen:  he  hoped  to  be  home  again  next  week.  He 
was  also  sending  pipes,  taps,  and  cement  for  the  water- 
supply. 

Fruen  showed  me  that  card.  "  Here,"  she  said, 
"  the  Captain  has  sent  these  things  for  your  work! 
You  had  better  get  them  down  from  the  station." 

We  stood  there  together,  looking  at  the  card  ;  mid- 
day, it  was,  and  we  were  just  outside  the  house.     I 
can't  say  how  it  was,  but  I  was  standing  there  quite 
close  to  her,  with  my  head  bent  in  towards  hers,  and 
it  made  me   feel  happy  all  through.     When  she  had 
finished  reading  she  looked  up  at  me.     No  play  of  her 
eyes  now ;  but  she  must  have  caught  some  expression 
in  my  face,  for  she  looked  at  me  still.     Did  she  feel  my 
presence  as  I  felt  hers  ?     Those  two  heavy  eyes  raised 
towards  mine  and  held  there  were  loaded  to  the  brim 
with  love.     She  could  not  be  responsible  for  her  actions 
now.     There  was  a  pathological  depth  in  her  glance, 
an  influence  from  far  within,   from  the  life  she  bore 
under  her  heart.     Her  breath  came  heavily,  her  face 
flushed  dark  all  over,  then  she  swung  round  and  walked 
slowly  away. 

There  I  stood,  with  the  card  in  my  hand.     Had  she 
given  it  to  me  ?     Had  I  taken  it  ? 

"Your  card,"  I  said.     "Shall  I  ..." 
She  held  out  her  hand  without  looking  round,  and 
walked  on. 

This  little  episode  occupied  my  mind  a  great  deal  for 
some  days.     Ought  I  to  have  gone  after  her  when  she 
walked  away?     Oh,    I   might  have  tried,  might  have 
18 


274  WANDERERS 

made  the  attempt — her  door  was  not  far  off.  Patho- 
logical ?  But  what  had  she  brought  me  the  card  for  at 
all  ?  She  could  have  told  me  by  word  of  mouth  what 
there  was  to  say.  I  called  to  mind  how  six  years  before 
we  had  stood  in  just  that  same  way  reading  a  telegram 
the  Captain  had  sent  her.  Did  she  find  pleasure  in 
situations  of  that  sort,  and  go  out  of  her  way  to  seek 
them? 

Next  time  I  saw  her  there  was  no  trace  of  any 
embarrassment  in  her  manner — she  was  kind  and  cold. 
So  I  had  to  let  it  drop  altogether.  And,  anyhow,  what 
did  I  want  with  her  at  all  ?  No,  indeed  ! 

Some  visitors  came  to  see  her  one  day — a  neighbour's 
wife,  with  her  daughter.  They  had  heard,  no  doubt, 
that  the  Captain  was  away,  and  thought  she  might  be 
glad  of  a  little  society  ;  or  perhaps  they  had  come  out 
of  curiosity.  They  were  well  received  ;  Fru  Falken- 
berg  was  amiable  as  ever,  and  even  played  the  piano 
for  them.  When  they  left,  she  went  with  them  down 
to  the  road,  talking  sensibly  of  practical  affairs,  though 
she  might  well  have  had  other  things  in  her  head  than 
coops  and  killing  pigs.  Oh,  she  was  full  of  kindly 
interest  in  it  all !  "  Come  again  soon — or  you,  at  any 
rate,  Sofie.  .  .  ."  "  Thanks,  thanks.  But  aren't  you 
ever  coming  over  to  us  at  Nedrebo?"  "Oh,  I?  Of 
course — yes.  I'd  walk  down  with  you  now  if  it  weren't 
so  late."  "Well,  to-morrow,  then?"  "Yes,  perhaps 
I  might  come  over  to-morrow. — Oh,  is  that  you?" 
This  was  to  Ragnhild,  who  had  come  down  with  a 
shawl.  "Oh,  what  an  ideal — did  you  think  I  should 
catch  cold  ?  " 

Altogether  things  were  looking  brighter  now  at 
0vreb0  ;  we  no  longer  felt  that  shadow  of  uneasiness 
over  us  all.  Grindhusen  and  I  worked  away  at  our 
famous  reservoir,  and  Lars  was  getting  on  farther  every 
day  with  his  trench.  Seeing  the  Captain  was  away,  I 


WANDERERS  275 

wanted  to  make  the  most  of  the  time,  and  perhaps 
have  the  work  nearly  done  by  the  time  he  came  back  ; 
it  would  be  a  grand  thing  if  we  could  get  it  finished 
altogether !  He  would  be  all  the  better  for  a  pleasant 
little  surprise,  for— yes,  there  had  been  something  of  a 
scene  the  night  before  he  left.  Some  new  reminder,  no 
doubt,  of  the  trouble  that  had  come  upon  his  house  ;  a 
book,  perhaps,  still  unburnt,  lying  about  in  Fruen's 
room.  He  had  ended  up  by  saying:  "Anyhow,  I'm 
cutting  timber  now  to  pay  it  off.  And  the  harvest  we've 
got  in  means  a  lot  of  money.  So  I  hope  the  Lord  will 
forgive  me— as  I  do  him.  Good-night,  Lovise." 

When  we  had  laid  the  last  stone  of  the  reservoir, 
and  cement  over  all,  I  went  down  with  Grindhusen  to 
help  Lars  with  the   trench— we  took  a  section   each. 
The  work  went  on  easily  and  with  a  will— here  and 
there  a  stone  had  to  be  blasted  out,  or  a  tree  felled 
up   in   the  woods;    but    the    trench    moved    steadily 
upwards,  until  we  had  a  long  black  line  from  the  house 
to  the  reservoir  itself.     Then  we  went  back  again  and 
dug  it  out  to  the  proper  depth.      This  was  no  orna- 
mental work,  but  a  trench— an  underground  resting, 
place   for   some  pipes  that  were  to  be  buried  on  the 
spot.     All  we  were  concerned  with  was  to  get  down 
below  the  reach  of  frost,  and  that  before  the  frost 
itself  came  to  hinder  us.     Already  it  was  coating  the 
fields  at   night.     Nils   himself  left  all  else  now,  and 
came  to  lend  a  hand. 

But  masonry  and  digging  trenches  are  but  work  for 
the  hands ;  my  brain  in  its  idleness  was  busy  all  the 
while  with  every  conceivable  idea.  As  often  as  I 
thought  of  that  episode  with  the  post  card,  it  sent,  as 
it  were,  a  glow  all  through  me.  Why  should  I  think 
any  more  about  it?  No,  of  course  not.  And  I  had 
not  followed  her  to  the  door  after  all. 

But  there  she  stood,  and  you  there.      Her  breath 


276  WANDERERS 

came  towards  you — a  taste  of  flesh.  Out  of  a  darkness 
she  was,  nay,  not  of  earth.  And  her  eyes — did  you 
mark  her  eyes  ? 

And  each  time  something  in  me  turned  at  the 
thought — a  nausea.  A  meaningless  succession  of 
names  poured  in  upon  me,  places  of  wild  and  tender 
sound,  whence  she  might  be :  Uganda,  Antananarivo, 
Honolulu,  Venezuela,  Atacama.  Verse  ?  Colours  ?  I 
knew  not  what  to  do  with  the  words. 


XIII 

Fruen  has  ordered  the  carriage  to  drive  her  to  the 
station. 

No  sign  of  haste  in  her  manner  ;  she  gives  orders 
to  the  cook  about  packing  up  some  food  for  the 
journey,  and  when  Nils  asks  which  carriage  he  is  to 
take,  she  thinks  for  a  moment,  and  decides  to  take 
the  landau  and  pair. 

So  she  went  away.     Nils  himself  drove  for  her. 

They  came  back  the  same  evening  ;  they  had  turned 
back  when  half-way  out. 

Had  Fruen  forgotten  something?  She  ordered 
fresh  horses,  and  another  hamper  of  food  ;  she  was 
going  off  again  at  once.  Nils  was  uneasy,  and  said  so  ; 
it  was  almost  night,  they  would  be  driving  in  the  dark  ; 
but  Fruen  repeated  her  order.  Meantime,  she  sat  in- 
doors and  waited  ;  she  had  not  forgotten  anything  ; 
she  did  nothing  now  but  sit  staring  before  her. 
Ragnhild  went  in  and  asked  if  there  was  anything 
she  could  do.  No,  thank  you.  Fruen  sat  bowed 
forward  as  if  weighed  down  by  some  deadly  grief. 

The  carriage  was  ready,  and  Fruen  came  out. 

Seeing  Nils  himself  ready  to  drive  again,  she  took 
pity  on  him,  and  said  she  would  have  Grindhusen  to 
drive  this  time.  And  she  sat  on  the  steps  till  he  came. 


WANDERERS  277 

Then  they  drove  off.  It  was  a  fine  evening,  and  nice 
and  cool  for  the  horses. 

"She's  past  making  out  now,"  said  Nils.  "I  can't 
think  what's  come  to  her.  I'd  no  idea  of  anything, 
when  suddenly  she  taps  at  the  window  and  says  turn 
back.  We  were  about  half-way  there.  But  never  a 
word  of  starting  out  again  at  once." 

But  she  must  have  forgotten  something,  surely  ?  " 
"Ragnhild    says    no.       She    was    indoors,    and    I 
thought  for  a  moment  of  those  photograph  things,  it 
she  was  going  to  burn  them  ;  but  they're  still  there. 
No,  she  didn't  do  a  single  thing  while  she  was  back." 
We  walked  across  the  courtyard  together. 
"  No,"  Nils  went  on,  "  Fruen's  in  a  bad  way;  she's 
lost  all  harmony  for  everything.     Where's  she  going 
off  to   now,    do    you    think?      Heaven    knows;    she 
doesn't  seem  to  be  altogether  sure  of  it  herself.     When 
we  stopped  to  breathe  the  horses,  she  said  something 
about  being  in  such  a  hurry,  and  having  to  be  in  different 
places  at  once— and  then  she  ought  not  really  to  be  away 
from  home  at  all.     <  Best  for  Fruen  not  to  hurry  about 
anything,'  I  said,  '  but  just  keep  quiet.'     But  you  know 
how  she  is  nowadays  ;  there's  no  saying  a  word  to  her. 
She  just  looked  at  her  watch  and  said  go  on  again." 
"  Was  this  on  the  way  to  the  station?  " 
"  No,  on  the  way  back.     She  was  quite  excited,  I 
thought." 

"  Perhaps  the  Captain  sent  for  her?  " 

Nils  shook  his  head.  "No.  But  perhaps— Lord 
knows.  What  was  I  going  to  say— it's— to-morrow's 
Sunday,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes;  what  then?" 

"  Oh,  nothing.  I  was  only  thinking  I'd  use  the  day 
off  to  mark  out  firewood  for  the  winter.  I've  been 
thinking  of  that  a  long  while.  And  it's  easier  now 
than  when  the  snow's  about." 


278  WANDERERS 

Always  thinking  of  his  work,  was  Nils.  He  took  a 
pride  in  it,  and  was  anxious  now,  moreover,  to  show 
his  gratitude  for  the  Captain's  having  raised  his  wages 
since  the  harvest. 

It  is  Sunday. 

I  walked  up  to  have  a  look  at  the  trench  and  the 
reservoir  ;  a  few  more  good  days  now,  and  we  should 
have  the  pipes  laid  down.  I  was  quite  excited  about  it 
myself,  and  could  hardly  wait  for  to-morrow's  working- 
day  to  begin  again.  The  Captain  had  not  interfered  in 
the  arrangements,  not  with  a  single  word,  but  left  all 
to  me,  so  that  it  was  no  light  matter  if  the  frost  came 
now  and  upset  it  all. 

When  I  got  back,  there  was  the  landau  outside  the 
house — the  horses  had  been  taken  out.  Grindhusen 
would  about  have  had  time  to  get  back,  I  thought ;  but 
why  had  he  pulled  up  in  front  of  the  steps  to  the  house  ? 

I  went  into  the  kitchen.  The  maids  came  towards 
me  ;  Fruen  was  in  the  carriage,  they  said  ;  she  had 
come  back  once  again.  She  had  just  been  to  the 
station,  but  now  she  was  going  there  again.  Could  I 
make  out  what  was  the  matter  with  her,  now? 

"  Nervous,  I  expect,"  said  I.     "  Where's  Nils  ?  " 

"  Up  in  the  woods.  Said  he'd  be  away  some  time. 
There's  only  us  here  now,  and  we  can't  say  more  to  her 
than  we  have." 

"  And  where's  Grindhusen  ?  " 

"  Changing  the  horses  again.  And  Fruen's  sitting 
there  in  the  carriage  and  won't  get  out.  You  go  and 
speak  to  her." 

"Oh,  well,  there's  no  great  harm  in  her  driving 
about  a  bit.  Don't  worry  about  that." 

I  went  out  to  the  carriage,  my  heart  beating  fast. 
How  miserable  and  desperate  she  must  be  !  I  opened 
the  carriage  door,  and  asked  respectfully  if  Fruen 
would  let  me  drive  this  time. 


WANDERERS  279 

She  looked  me  calmly  in  the  face.  "  No.  What 
for  ?  "  she  said. 

"Grindhusen  might  be  a  little  done  up,  perhaps — I 
don't  know  .  .  ." 

"He  promised  to  drive,"  she  said.  "And  he's  not 
done  up.  Isn't  he  nearly  ready  ?  " 

"  I  can't  see  him,"  I  answered. 

"Shut  the  door  again,  and  tell  him  to  come,"  she 
commanded,  wrapping  herself  more  closely  as  she 
spoke. 

I  went  over  to  the  stables.  Grindhusen  was  harness- 
ing a  fresh  pair  of  horses. 

"What's  all  this  ?  "  I  asked.  "  Going  off  again,  are 
you?" 

"Yes — that  is,  I  thought  so,"  said  Grindhusen, 
stopping  for  a  moment  as  if  in  doubt. 

"  It  looks  queer.  Where's  Fruen  going  to,  do  you 
know?" 

"No.  She  wanted  to  drive  back  again  last  night 
as  soon  as  we  got  to  the  station,  but  I  told  her  that 
it  was  too  much  for  either  of  us  to  drive  back  then. 
So  she  slept  at  the  hotel.  But  this  morning  it  was 
home  again,  if  you  please.  And  now  she  wants  to 
go  to  the  station  again,  she  says.  I  don't  know,  I'm 
sure  ..." 

Grindhusen  goes  on  harnessing  up. 

"  Fruen  said  you  were  to  make  haste,"  I  said. 

"All  right,  I'm  coming.  But  these  girths  are  the 
very  devil." 

"  Aren't  you  too  tired  to  drive  all  that  way  again 
now?" 

"  No.  You  know  well  enough  I  can  manage  it  all 
right.  And  she's  given  me  good  money,  too.  Extra." 

"Did  she,  though?" 

"Ay,  that  she  did.  But  she's  a  queer  sort,  is 
Fruen." 


28o  WANDERERS 

Then  said  I  :  "I  don't  think  you  ought  to  go  off 
again  now." 

Grindhusen  stopped  short.  "You  think  so?  Well, 
now,  I  dare  say  you're  right." 

Just  then  came  Fruen's  voice  from  outside — she  had 
come  right  over  to  the  stable  door. 

"Aren't  you  ready  yet?  How  much  longer  am  I 
to  sit  waiting?  " 

"Ready  this  minute,"  answered  Grindhusen,  and 
turned  to  again,  busier  than  ever.  "  It  was  only  these 
girths." 

Fruen  went  back  to  the  carriage.  She  ran,  and  the 
thick  fur  coat  she  had  on  was  too  heavy  for  her,  she 
had  to  balance  with  her  arms.  It  was  pitiful  to  see  ; 
like  a  hen  trying  to  escape  across  a  barnyard,  and 
flapping  its  wings  to  help. 

I  went  over  to  the  carriage  again,  politely,  even 
humbly.  I  took  off  my  cap,  and  begged  Fruen  to  give 
up  this  new  journey. 

"  You  are  not  driving  me  !  "  she  answered. 
"  No.     But  if  Fruen  would  only  give  it  up  and  stay 
at  home  ..." 

At  this  she  was  offended  ;  she  stared  at  me,  looked 
me  up  and  down,  and  said  : 

"  Excuse  me,  but  this  is  no  business  of  yours. 
Because  I  got  you  dismissed  once  ..." 

"  No,  no,  it's  not  that !  "  I  cried  desperately,  and 
could  say  no  more.  When  she  took  it  that  way  I 
was  helpless. 

Just  for  one  moment  a  wave  of  fury  came  over  me  ;  I 
had  only  to  put  out  my  arms  and  I  could  lift  her  out 
of  the  carriage  altogether,  this  child,  this  pitiful  hen ! 
My  arms  must  have  twitched  at  the  thought,  for  she 
gave  a  sudden  frightened  start,  and  shifted  in  her 
seat.  Then  all  at  once  the  reaction  took  me  ;  I  turned 
foolish  and  soft,  and  tried  once  more  : 


WANDERERS  281 

"It'll  be  so  dismal  for  us  all  here  if  you  go.  Do 
let  us  try  if  we  can't  hit  on  something  between  us 
to  pass  the  time  for  you  !  I  can  read  a  little,  reading 
aloud,  and  there's  Lars  can  sing.  Perhaps  I  might  tell 
stories — tell  of  something  or  other.  Here's  Grindhusen 
coming ;  won't  you  let  me  tell  him  you're  not  going 
after  all  ?  " 

She  softened  at  this,  and  sat  thinking  for  a  little. 
Then  she  said 

"  You  must  be  making  a  mistake  altogether,  I  think. 
I  am  going  to  the  station  to  meet  the  Captain.  He 
didn't  come  the  first  day,  or  yesterday  either,  but  he's 
sure  to  come  some  time.  I'm  driving  over  to  meet 
him." 
"Oh!" 

"  There  you  are.     Now  go.     Is  Grindhusen  there  ?  " 
It  was  like  a  slap  in  the  face  for  me.     She  was  right ; 
it  sounded  so  natural — oh,  I  had  made  a  fool  of  myself 
again  ! 

"Yes,  here  he  is,"  I  answered.  There  was  no  more 
to  be  said. 

And  I  put  on  my  cap  again,  and  helped  Grindhusen 
myself  with  the  harness.  So  confused  and  shamed 
was  I  that  I  did  not  even  ask  pardon,  but  only 
fretted  this  way  and  that  way  seeing  to  buckles  and 
straps. 

"You  are  driving  then,  Grindhusen  ?"  called  Fruen 
from  the  carriage. 

"  Me?     Yes,  surely,"  he  answered. 
Fruen    pulled   the   door   to   with   a   bang,    and   the 
carriage  drove  off. 

"Has  she  gone?"  asked  the  maids,  clasping  their 
hands. 

"Gone — yes,  of  course.  She's  going  to  meet  her 
husband." 


282  WANDERERS 

I  strolled  up  to  the  reservoir  again.  Grindhusen 
away  meant  one  man  less  ;  why,  then,  the  rest  of  us 
must  work  so  much  the  harder. 

But  I  had  already  come  to  realise  that  Fru  Falken- 
berg  had  only  silenced  me  with  a  false  excuse  when 
she  declared  she  was  going  to  meet  her  husband. 
What  matter  ?  The  horses  were  rested  ;  they  had  done 
no  work  the  days  Nils  had  been  helping  us  with  the 
trench.  But  I  had  been  a  fool.  I  could  have  got  up 
on  the  box  myself  without  asking  leave.  Well,  and 
what  then  ?  Why,  then  at  least  any  later  follies  would 
have  had  to  pass  by  way  of  me,  more  or  less,  and  I 
might  have  stopped  them.  He,  he !  infatuated  old 
fool !  Fruen  knew  what  she  was  doing,  no  doubt ;  she 
wanted  to  pay  off  old  scores,  and  be  away  when  her 
husband  came  home.  She  was  all  indecision,  would 
and  would  not,  would  and  would  not,  all  the  time  ; 
but  the  idea  was  there.  And  I,  simple  soul — I  had  not 
set  out  a-wandering  on  purpose  to  attend  to  the  par- 
ticular interests  of  married  folk  in  love  or  out  of  it. 
'Twas  their  affair !  Fru  Falkenberg  had  changed  for 
the  worse.  There  was  no  denying  it ;  she  had  suffered 
damage,  and  was  thoroughly  spoiled  now  ;  it  hardly 
mattered  any  longer  what  she  did.  Ay,  and  she  had 
taken  to  lying  as  well.  First,  music-hall  tricks  with 
her  eyes,  then  on  till  it  got  to  lying.  A  white  lie 
to-day,  to-morrow  a  blacker  one,  each  leading  to 
another.  And  what  of  it?  Life  could  afford  to  waste 
her,  to  throw  her  away. 

We  put  in  three  days'  work  at  the  trench  ;  only  a 
few  feet  left  now.  There  might  be  three  degrees  of 
frost  now  at  nights,  but  it  did  not  stop  us  ;  we  went 
steadily  on.  Grindhusen  had  come  back,  and  was  set 
to  tunnelling  under  the  kitchen  where  the  pipes  were 
to  go  ;  but  the  stable  and  cowshed  were  more  important, 
and  I  did  the  underground  work  for  these  myself. 


WANDERERS  283 

Nils  and  Lars  ran  the  last  bit  of  trench  up  meanwhile, 
the  last  bit  of  way  to  the  reservoir. 

To-day,  at  last,  I  questioned  Grindhusen  about  Fruen. 

"So  you  didn't  bring  Fruen  back  with  you  again 
this  last  time?" 

"  No.     She  went  off  by  train." 

"  Off  to  her  husband,  I  suppose  ?  " 

But  Grindhusen  has  turned  cautious  with  me ;  these 
two  days  past  he  has  said  never  a  word,  and  now  he 
only  answers  vaguely : 

"Ay,  that  would  be  it,  no  doubt.  Ay,  surely,  yes. 
Why,  you  might  reckon  that  out  yourself,  she  would. 
Her  own  husband  and  all.  .  .  ." 

"  I  thought  perhaps  she  might  have  been  going  up  to 
her  own  people  at  Kristianssand." 

"Why,  that  might  be,"  says  Grindhusen,  thinking 
this  a  better  way.  "Lord,  yes,  that  would  be  it,  of 
course.  Just  for  a  visit,  like.  Well,  well,  she'll  be 
home  again  soon,  for  sure." 

"Did  she  tell  you  so?" 

"  Why,  'twas  so  I  made  out.  And  the  Captain's  not 
home  himself  yet,  anyway.  Eh,  but  she's  a  rare  open- 
handed  one,  she  is.  <  Here's  something  for  food  and 
drink  for  yourself  and  the  horses,'  she  says.  'And 
here's  a  little  extra,'  she  says  again.  Eh,  but  there's 
never  her  like  !  " 

But  to  the  maids,  with  whom  he  felt  less  fear, 
Grindhusen  had  said  it  didn't  look  as  if  they'd  be  see- 
ing Fruen  back  again  at  all.  She  had  been  asking  him 
all  the  way,  he  said,  about  Engineer  Lassen  ;  she  must 
have  gone  off  to  him  after  all.  And,  surely,  she'd  be 
well  enough  with  him,  a  man  with  any  amount  of 
money  and  grand  style  and  all. 

Then  came  another  card  for  Fruen  from  the.Captain, 
this  time  only  to  say  would  she  please  send  Nils  to 
meet  him  at  the  station  on  Friday,  and  be  sure  to  bring 


284  WANDERERS 

his  fur  coat.  The  post  card  had  been  delayed — it  was 
Thursday  already.  And  this  time  it  was  fortunate, 
really,  that  Ragnhild  happened  to  look  at  the  post  card 
and  see  what  it  said. 

We  stayed  sitting  in  Nils's  room,  talking  about  the 
Captain — what  he  would  say  when  he  got  back,  and 
what  we  should  say,  or  if  we  ought  to  say  anything  at 
all.  All  three  of  the  maids  were  present  at  this  council. 
Fruen  would  have  had  plenty  of  time  to  get  to  Kris- 
tiania  herself  by  the  day  the  Captain  had  written  his 
card  ;  she  had  not,  it  seemed — she  had  gone  somewhere 
else.  It  was  more  than  pitiful  altogether. 

Said  Nils : 

"Didn't  she  leave  a  note  or  anything  when  she 
went  ?  " 

But  no,  there  was  nothing.  Ragnhild,  however,  had 
done  a  thing  on  her  own  responsibility  which  perhaps 
she  ought  not  to  have  done — she  had  taken  the  photos 
from  the  piano  and  thrown  them  in  the  stove.  "  Was 
it  wrong,  now  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  Ragnhild  !     No  !  " 

She  told  us,  also,  that  she  had  been  through  Fruen's 
wardrobe  and  sorted  out  all  handkerchiefs  that  were 
not  hers.  Oh,  she  had  found  lots  of  things  up  in  her 
room — a  bag  with  Engineer  Lassen's  initials  worked 
on,  a  book  with  his  full  name  in,  some  sweets  in  an 
envelope  with  his  writing — and  she  had  burnt  it  all. 

A  strange  girl,  Ragnhild — yes !  Was  there  ever 
such  an  instinct  as  hers  ?  It  was  like  the  devil  turned 
monk.  Ragnhild,  who  made  such  use  herself  of  the 
thick  red  stair-carpet  and  the  keyholes  everywhere ! 

It  suited  me  and  my  work  well  enough  that  the  Cap- 
tain had  not  ordered  the  carriage  before  ;  we  had  got 
the  trench  finished  now  all  the  way  up,  and  I  could 
manage  without  Nils  for  laying  the  pipes.  I  should 
want  all  hands,  though,  when  it  came  to  filling  in 


WANDERERS  285 

again.     It   was   rain   again   now,    by   the   way ;    mild 
weather,  many  degrees  of  warmth. 

It  was  well  for  me,  no  doubt,  these  days  that  I  had 
this  work  of  mine  to  occupy  my  thoughts  as  keenly  as 
it  did ;  it  kept  away  many  a  fancy  that  would  surely 
otherwise  have  plagued  me.  Now  and  again  I  would 
clench  my  fists  as  a  spasm  of  pain  came  over  me  ;  and 
when  I  was  all  alone  up  at  the  reservoir  I  could  some- 
times cry  aloud  up  at  the  woods.  But  there  was  no 
possibility  of  my  getting  away.  And  where  should  I 
go  if  I  did  ? 

The  Captain  arrived. 

He  went  all  through  the  house  at  once— into  the  par- 
lour, out  into  the  kitchen,  then  to  the  rooms  upstairs- 
all  in  his  fur  coat  and  overboots. 

"  Where's  Fruen?"  he  asked. 

"  Fruen  went  to  meet  Captain,"  answered  Ragnhild. 
"  We  thought  she'd  be  coming  back  now  as  well." 

The  Captain's  head  bowed  forward  a  little.  Then 
cautiously  he  began  questioning. 

"  You  mean  she  drove  with  Nils  to  the  station  ? 
Stupid  of  me  not  to  have  looked  about  while  I  was 
there !  " 

"  No,"  said  Ragnhild  ;  "  it  was  Sunday  Fruen  went." 

At  this  the  Captain  pulled  himself  together.  "  Sun- 
day?" he  said.  "Then  she  must  have  been  going 
to  meet  me  in  Kristiania.  H'm  !  We've  managed  to 
miss  each  other  somehow.  I  had  to  make  another 
little  journey  yesterday,  out  to  Drammen— no,  Frederik- 
stad,  I  mean.  Get  me  something  to  eat,  will  you  ?  " 

"  Vcersaagod,  it's  all  ready  laid." 

"It  was  the  day  before  yesterday,  by  the  way,  I 
went  out  there.  Well,  well,  she'll  have  had  a  little 
outing,  anyhow.  And  how's  everything  going  on? 
Are  the  men  at  work  on  the  trench?" 


286  WANDERERS 

"  They've  finished  it,  I  think." 

The  Captain  went  in,  and  Ragnhild  came  running  at 
once  to  tell  us  what  he  had  said,  that  we  might  know 
what  to  go  by  now,  and  not  make  things  worse. 

Later  in  the  day  he  came  out  to  where  we  were  at 
work,  greeted  us  cheerily,  in  military  fashion,  and  was 
surprised  to  find  the  pipes  already  laid  ;  we  had  begun 
filling  in  now. 

"  Splendid  !  "  he  said.  "  You  fellows  are  quicker  at 
your  work  than  I  am." 

He  went  off  by  himself  up  to  the  reservoir.  When 
he  came  back  his  eyes  were  not  so  keen  ;  he  looked  a 
little  weary.  Maybe  he  had  been  sitting  there  alone 
and  thinking  of  many  things.  He  stood  watching  us 
now  with  one  hand  to  his  chin.  After  a  little  he  said 
to  Nils : 

"  I've  sold  the  timber  now." 
"  Captain's  got  a  good  price  for  it,  maybe?  " 
"Yes,   a  good  price.     But  I've  been  all   this   time 
about  it.     You've  been  quicker  here." 

"  There  were  more  of  us  here,"  I  said.  "  Four  of  us 
sometimes." 

And  at  that  he  tried  to  jest.  "  Yes,"  he  said  ;  "  I  know 
you're  an  expensive  man  to  have  about  the  place ! " 

But  there  was  no  jest  in  his  face  ;  his  smile  was 
hardly  a  smile  at  all.  The  weakness  had  gripped  him 
now  in  earnest.  After  a  little,  he  sat  down  on  a  stone 
we  had  just  got  out,  all  over  fresh  clay  as  it  was,  and 
watched  us. 

I  took  up  my  spade  and  went  up,  thinking  of  his 
clothes. 

"  Hadn't  I  better  scrape  the  stone  a  bit  clean  ?  " 
"  No,  it  doesn't  matter,"  he  said. 
But  he  got  up  all  the  same,  and  let  me  clean  it  a 
little. 

It  was  then  that  Ragnhild  came  running  up  to  us, 


WANDERERS 


287 


following-  the  line  of  the  trench.  She  had  something  in 
her  hand— a  paper.  And  she  was  running,  running. 
The  Captain  sat  watching  her. 

"  It's  only  a  telegram  !  "  she  said  breathlessly.  «  It 
came  on  by  messenger." 

The  Captain  got  up  and  strode  quickly  a  few  paces 
forward  towards  this  telegram  that  had  come.  Then  he 
tore  it  open  and  read. 

We  could  see  at  once  it  must  be  something  impor- 
tant. The  Captain  gave  a  great  gasp.  Then  he  began 
walking  down,  running  down,  towards  the  house.  A 
little  way  off  he  turned  round  and  called  to  Nils : 

'  The  carriage  at  once  !     I  must  go  to  the  station  !  " 

Then  he  ran  on  again. 

So  the  Captain  went  away  again.  He  had  only  been 
home  a  few  hours. 

Ragnhild  told  us  of  his  terrible  haste  and  worry,  poor 
man  ;  he  was  getting  into  the  carriage  without  his  fur 
coat,  and  would  have  left  the  food  behind  him  that  was 
packed  all  ready.  And  the  telegram  that  had  come  was 
lying  all  open  on  the  stairs. 

"  Accident,"  it  said.  "  Your  wife.— Chief  of  Police." 
What  was  all  this  ? 

"I  thought  as  much,"  said  Ragnhild,  "when  they 
sent  it  on  by  messenger."  Her  voice  was  strange,  and 
she  turned  away.  "Something  serious,  I  dare  say" 
she  said. 

"No,  no  I"  said  I,  reading  and  reading  again 
| 'Look,  it's  not  so  very  bad  1  Hear  what  it  says: 
'  Request  you  come  at  once— accident  to  your  wife.' " 

It  was  an  express  telegram  from  the  little  town,  the 
little  dead  town.  Yes,  that  was  it— a  town  with  a  roar 
of  sound  through  it,  and  a  long  bridge,  and  foaming 
waters  ;  all  cries  there  died  as  they  were  uttered— none 
could  hear.  And  there  were  no  birds. 


288  WANDERERS 

But  all  the  maids  spoke  now  in  changed  voices  ;  'twas 
nothing  but  misery  amongst  us  now  ;  I  had  to  appear 
steady  and  confident  myself,  to  reassure  them.  Fruen 
might  have  had  a  fall,  perhaps,  she  was  not  so  active 
of  late.  But  she  could,  perhaps,  have  got  up  again  and 
walked  on  almost  as  well  as  ever — just  a  little  bleeding. 
.  .  .  Oh,  they  were  so  quick  with  their  telegrams,  these 
police  folk ! 

"  No,  no  !  "  said  Ragnhild.  "  You  know  well  enough 
that  when  the  Chief  of  Police  sends  a  telegram  it's 
pretty  sure  to  mean  Fruen's  been  found  dead  some- 
where !  Oh,  I  can't — I  can't — can't  bear  it !  " 

Miserable  days  !  I  worked  away,  harder  than  ever, 
but  as  a  man  in  his  sleep,  without  interest  or  pleasure. 
Would  the  Captain  never  come  ? 

Three  days  later  he  came — quietly  and  alone.  The 
body  had  been  sent  to  Kristianssand  ;  he  had  only  come 
back  to  fetch  some  clothes,  then  he  was  going  on  there 
himself,  to  the  funeral. 

He  was  home  this  time  for  an  hour  at  most,  then  off 
again  to  catch  the  early  train.  I  did  not  even  see  him 
myself,  being  out  at  work. 

Ragnhild  asked  if  he  had  seen  Fruen  alive. 

He  looked  at  her  and  frowned. 

But  the  girl  would  not  give  up  ;  she  begged  him,  for 
Heaven's  sake,  to  say.  And  the  two  other  maids  stood 
just  behind,  as  desperate  as  she. 

Then  the  Captain  answered,  but  in  a  low  voice  as  if 
to  himself: 

"  She  had  been  dead  some  days  when  I  got  there.  It 
was  an  accident ;  she  had  tried  to  cross  the  river  and 
the  ice  would  not  bear.  No,  no,  there  was  no  ice,  but 
the  stones  were  slippery.  There  was  ice  as  well, 
though." 

Then  the  maids  began  moaning  and  crying  ;  but  this 
was  more  than  he  could  stand.  He  got  up  from  the 


WANDERERS  2Sg 

chair  where  he  was  sitting,  cleared  his  throat  hard,  and 
said: 

"There,  there,  it's  all  right,  girls,  go  along  now. 
Kagnhild,  a  minute."  And  then  to  Ragnhild,  when  the 
others  had  gone:  "What  was  I  going  to  say,  now? 
you  haven't  moved  some  photos,  have  you,  that  were 
on  the  piano  here  ?  I  can't  make  out  what's  happened 
to  them." 

Then  Ragnhild  spoke  up  well  and  with  spirit— and 

may  Heaven  bless  her  for  the  lie  ! 

"  I  ?     No,  indeed,  'twas  Fruen  herself  one  day." 
"Oh?     Well,   well.     I  only  wondered  how  it  was 

they  had  gone." 

Relieved— relieved  the  Captain  was  to  hear  it. 
As  he  was  leaving  he  told  Ragnhild  to  say  I  was  not 
to  go  away  from  Ovrebo  till  he  returned. 

XIV 

No,  I  did  not  go  away. 

I  worked  on,  tramped  through  the  weariest  days  of 
my  life  to  their  end,  and  finished  laying  the  pipes  It 
was  a  bit  of  a  change  for  us  all  on  the  place  the 'first 
time  we  could  draw  water  from  a  tap,  and  we  were 
none  the  worse  for  something  new  to  talk  about  for  a 
while. 

Lars  Falkenberg  had  left  us.     He  and  I  had  got  rid 
)f  all  disagreement  between  us  at  the  last,  and  were  as 
we  had  been  in  the  old  days  when  we  were  mates  and 
tramped  the  roads  together. 

He  was  better  off  than  many  another,   was  Lars  • 
light  of  heart  and  empty  of  head  ;  and  thereto  uncon' 
scionably  sound  and  strong.     True,  there  would  be  no 
lore  singing  up  at  the  house  for  him  now  or  ever  after 
but  he  seemed  to  have  grown  a  trifle  doubtful  of  his 
voice  himself  the  last  few  years,  and  contented  himself 
19 


290  WANDERERS 

now  for  the  most  part  with  the  thing's  he  had  sung1 — 
once  upon  a  time — at  dances  and  gentlefolk's  parties. 
No,  Lars  Falkenberg  was  none  so  badly  off.  He'd  his 
own  little  holding,  with  keep  for  two  cows  and  a  pig  ; 
and  a  wife  and  children  he  had  as  well. 

But  what  were  Grindhusen  and  I  to  turn  our  hands 
to  now?  I  could  go  off  wandering  anywhere,  but 
Grindhusen,  good  soul,  was  no  wanderer.  All  he  could 
do  was  to  stay  on  at  one  place  and  work  till  he  was 
dismissed.  And  when  the  stern  decision  came,  he  was 
so  upset  that  he  could  not  take  it  easily,  but  felt  he  was 
being  specially  hardly  used.  Then  after  a  while  he 
grew  confident  again,  and  full  of  a  childlike  trust — not 
in  himself,  but  in  Fate,  in  Providence — sat  down 
resignedly,  and  said:  "Ay,  well,  'twill  be  all  right, 
let's  hope,  with  God's  help." 

But  he  was  happy  enough.  He  settled  down  with 
marvellous  ease  at  whatever  place  he  came  to,  and 
could  stay  there  till  he  died  if  it  rested  with  himself. 
Home  he  need  not  go  ;  the  children  were  grown  up  now, 
and  his  wife  never  troubled  him.  No,  this  red-haired 
old  sinner  of  former  days — all  he  needed  now  was  a 
place,  and  work. 

"  Where  are  you  going  after  this  ?  "  he  asked  me. 
"  A  long  way,  up  in  the  hills,  to  Trovatn,  to  a  forest." 
He  did  not  believe  me  in  the  least,  but  he  answered 
quickly  and  evasively : 
"Ay,  I  dare  say,  yes." 

After  we  had  finished  the  pipes,  Nils  sent  Grindhusen 
and  myself  up  cutting  wood  till  the  Captain  returned. 
We  cut  up  and  stacked  the  top-ends  the  woodmen  had 
left ;  neat  and  steady  work  it  was. 

"We'll  be  turned  off,  both  of  us,"  said  Grindhusen, 
"  when  Captain  comes,  eh  ?  " 

"You  might  get  work  here  for  the  winter,"  I  said. 
"A  thousand  dozen  battens  means  a  lot  of  small  stuff 


WANDERERS  291 

left  over   that    you   could    saw  up   for  a   reasonable 
wage. " 

"  Well,  talk  to  the  Captain  about  it,"  he  said. 

And  the  hope  of  regular  work  for  the  winter  made  this 
man  a  contented  soul.  He  could  manage  well  enough. 
No,  Grindhusen  had  nothing  much  to  trouble  about. 

But  then  there  was  myself.  And  I  felt  but  little 
worth  or  use  to  myself  now,  Heaven  help  me ! 

That  Sunday  I  wandered  restlessly  about.  I  was 
waiting  for  the  Captain  ;  he  was  to  be  back  to-day.  To 
make  sure  of  things  as  far  as  I  could,  I  went  for  a  long 
walk  up  along  the  stream  that  fed  our  reservoir.  I 
wanted  to  have  another  look  at  the  two  little  waters  up 
the  hillside— "the  sources  of  the  Nile." 

Coming  down  on  the  way  back,  I  met  Lars  Falken- 
berg;  he  was  going  home.  The  full  moon  was  just 
coming  up,  red  and  huge,  and  turned  things  light  all 
round.  A  touch  of  snow  and  frost  there  was,  too ;  it 
was  easy  breathing.  Lars  was  in  a  friendly  mood  : 'he 
had  been  drinking  Brandevin  somewhere,  and  talked 
a  great  deal.  But  I  was  not  altogether  pleased  at 
meeting  him. 

I  had  stood  there  long  up  on  the  wooded  hillside, 
listening  to  the  soughing  of  earth  and  sky,  and  there 
was  nothing  else  to  hear.  Then  there  might  come  a 
faint  little  rustling,  a  curled  and  shrunken  leaf  rolling 
and  rustling  down  over  the  frozen  branches.  It  was 
like  the  sound  of  a  little  spring.  Then  the  soughing 
of  earth  and  sky  again.  A  gentleness  came  over  me  ; 
a  mute  was  set  on  all  my  strings. 

Lars  Falkenberg  wanted  to  know  where  I  had  been 
and  where  I  was  going.  Reservoir?  A  senseless 
business  that  reservoir  thing.  As  if  people  couldn't 
carry  water  for  themselves.  The  Captain  went  in  too 
much  for  these  new-fangled  inventions  and  ploughing 


292  WANDERERS 

over  standing  crops  and  such-like  ;  he'd  find  himself 
landed  one  day.  A  rich  harvest,  they  said.  Ho,  yes, 
but  they  never  troubled  to  think  what  it  must  cost,  with 
machines  for  this  and  that,  and  a  pack  of  men  to  every 
machine  again.  What  mustn't  it  have  cost,  now,  for 
Grindhusen  and  me  that  summer !  And  then  himself 
this  autumn.  In  the  old  days  it  had  been  music  and 
plenty  at  0vreb0,  and  some  of  us  had  been  asked  into 
the  parlour  to  sing.  "I'll  say  no  more,"  said  Lars. 
"  And  now  there's  hardly  a  sizable  stick  of  timber  left 
in  the  woods." 

"A  few  years'  time  and  it'll  be  as  thick  as  ever." 

"A  few  years  !  A  many  years,  you  mean.  No,  it's 
not  enough  to  go  about  being  Captain  and  commanding 
— brrrr!  and  there  it  is!  And  he's  not  even  spokesman 
for  the  neighbours  now,  and  you  never  see  folk  coming 
up  now  to  ask  him  what  he'd  say  was  best  to  do  in  this 
or  that.  ..." 

"Did  you  see  the  Captain  down  below?  Had  he 
come  back  yet?  "  I  broke  in. 

"  He's  just  come  back.  Looked  like  a  skeleton,  he 
did.  What  was  I  going  to  say?  .  .  .  When  are  you 
leaving?  " 

"  To-morrow,"  I  said. 

"  So  soon?  "  Lars  was  all  friendliness,  and  wishing 
me  good  luck  now  ;  he  had  not  thought  I  should  be 
going  off  at  once. 

"It's  all  a  chance  if  I  see  you  again  this  time,"  he 
said.  "  But  I'll  tell  you  this  much,  now  :  you'd  do  well 
to  stop  frittering  your  life  away  any  more,  and  never 
staying  on  a  place  for  good.  And  I  say  as  much  here 
and  now,  so  mark  my  words.  I  dare  say  I  haven't  got 
on  so  grandly  myself,  but  I  don't  know  many  of  our  likes 
have  done  better,  and  anyway  not  you.  I've  a  roof  over 
my  head  at  the  least,  and  a  wife  and  children,  and  two 
cows — one  bears  autumn  and  one  spring — and  then  a 


WANDERERS  293 

pig,  and  that's  all  I  can  say  I  own.  So  better  not 
boast  about  that.  But  if  you  reckon  it  up,  it  amounts 
to  a  bit  of  a  holding  after  all." 

"  It's  all  very  well  for  you,  the  way  you've  got  on," 
said  I. 

Lars  is  friendlier  than  ever  after  this  appreciation  ; 
he  wishes  me  no  end  of  good,  and  goes  on : 

'  There's  none  could  get  on  better  than  yourself,  for 
that  matter.  With  the  knack  you've  got  for  all  kinds 
of  work,  and  writing  and  figuring  into  the  bargain, 
it's  your  own  fault.  You  might  have  done  as  I 
told  you  these  six,  seven  years  ago,  and  taken  one  of 
the  other  girls  on  the  place,  like  I  did  with  Emma,  and 
settled  down  here  for  good.  Then  you  wouldn't  be 
going  about  now  from  place  to  place.  But  I  say  the 
same  again  now." 

"  It's  too  late,"  I  answered. 

"Ay,  you're  terribly  grey.  I  don't  know  who  you 
could  reckon  to  get  now  about  here.  How  old  are 
you  now?  " 

"Don't  ask  me  !" 

"Not   exactly  a   young  one,  perhaps,  but  still 

What  was  I  going  to  say?     Come  up  with  me  a  little, 
and  maybe  I'll  remember." 

I  walked  up,  and  Lars  went  on  talking  all  the  way 
He  offered  to  put  in  a  word  for  me  with  the  Captain 
so  I  could  get  a  clearing  like  he  had. 

"Funny  to  go  and  forget  a  thing  like  that,"  he  said. 
it  s  gone  clean  out  of  my  head.     But  come  up  home 
now.     I'll  be  sure  to  hit  on  it  again." 

All  friendliness  he  was  now.     But  I  had  one  or  two 
things  to  do  myself,  and  would  not  go  farther. 
;'  You  won't  see  the  Captain  to-night,  anyway." 
No,  but  it  was  late.     Emma  would  be  in  bed,  and 
would  only  be  a  trouble. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  said  Lars.     «  And  if  she  has  gone 


294  WANDERERS 

to  bed,  what  of  it?  I  shouldn't  wonder,  now,  if  there 
was  a  shirt  of  yours  up  there,  too.  Better  come  up 
and  take  it  with  you,  and  save  Emma  going  all  the 
way  down  herself." 

But  I  would  not  go  up.  I  ventured,  however,  to 
send  a  greeting  to  Emma  this  time. 

"Ay,  surely,"  said  Lars.  "And  if  so  be  as  you 
haven't  time  to  come  up  to  my  bit  of  a  place  now,  why, 
there  it  is.  You'll  be  going  off  first  thing  to-morrow, 
I  suppose  ?  " 

It  slipped  my  mind  for  the  moment  that  I  should  not 
be  able  to  see  the  Captain  that  evening,  and  I  answered 
now  that  I  should  be  leaving  as  early  as  could  be. 

"  Well,  then,  I'll  send  Emma  down  with  that  shirt  of 
yours  at  once,"  said  Lars.  "  And  good  luck  to  you. 
And  don't  forget  what  I  said." 

And  that  was  farewell  to  Lars. 

A  little  farther  down  I  slackened  my  pace.  After  all, 
there  was  no  real  hurry  about  the  few  things  I  had  to 
pack  and  finish  off.  I  turned  back  and  walked  up 
again  a  little,  whistling  in  the  moonlight.  It  was  a 
fine  evening,  not  cold  at  all,  only  a  soft,  gentle  calm 
all  over  the  woods.  Half  an  hour  passed,  and  then 
to  my  surprise  came  Emma,  bringing  my  shirt. 

Next  morning  neither  Grindhusen  nor  I  went  to  the 
woods.  Grindhusen  was  uneasy. 

"Did  you  speak  to  the  Captain  about  me?"  he 
asked. 

"  I  haven't  spoken  to  him." 

"  Oh,  I  know  he'll  turn  me  off  now,  you  see !  If  he 
had  any  sense,  he'd  let  me  stay  on  to  cut  up  all  that 
cordwood.  But  what's  he  know  about  things?  It's 
as  much  as  he  can  manage  to  keep  a  man  at  all." 

"Why,  what's  this,  Grindhusen?  You  seemed  to 
like  the  Captain  well  enough  before." 


WANDERERS  295 

"Oh  yes,  you  know!  Yes,  of  course.  He's  good 
enough,  I  dare  say.  H'm  !  I  wonder,  now,  if  the 
Inspector  down  on  the  river  mightn't  have  some  little 
scrap  of  a  job  in  my  line.  He's  a  man  with  plenty  of 
money,  is  the  Inspector." 

I  saw  the  Captain  at  eight  o'clock,  and  talked  with 
him  a  while  ;  then  a  couple  of  neighbours  came  to 
call— offering  sympathy  in  his  bereavement,  no  doubt. 
The  Captain  looked  fatigued,  but  he  was  not  a  broken 
man  by  any  means  ;  his  manner  was  firm  and  steady 
enough.  He  spoke  to  me  a  little  about  a  plan  he  had 
in  mind  for  a  big  drying-house  for  hay  and  corn. 

No  more  of  things  awry  now,  at  0vreb0,  no  more 
emotion,  no  soul  gone  off  the  rails.  I  thought  of  it 
almost  with  sadness.  No  one  to  stick  up  impertinent 
photographs  on  the  piano,  but  no  one  to  play  on  that 
piano,  either ;  dumb  now,  it  stands,  since  the  last  note 
sounded.  No,  for  Fru  Falkenberg  is  not  here  now  ; 
she  can  do  no  more  hurt  to  herself  or  any  other. 
Nothing  of  all  that  used  to  be  here  now.  Remains, 
then,  to  be  seen  if  all  will  be  flowers  and  joy  at  0vrebo 
hereafter. 

"If  only  he  doesn't  take  to  drinking  again,"  I  said 
to  Nils. 

"No,  surely,"  he  said.  "And  I  don't  believe  he 
ever  did.  It  was  just  a  bit  of  foolery;  if  you  ask  me, 
his  going  on  like  that  just  for  the  time.  But  talking 
of  something  else— will  you  be  coming  back  here  in 
the  spring?" 

"  No,"  I  answered.     "  I  shall  not  come  again  now." 

Then  Nils  and  I  took  leave  of  each  other.  Well  I 
remember  that  man's  calm  and  fairness  of  mind  ;  I 
stood  looking  after  him  as  he  walked  away  across 
the  yard.  Then  he  turned  round  and  said  : 

"Were  you  up  in  the  woods  yesterday?  Is  there 
snow  enough  for  me  to  take  a  sledge  up  for  wood  ?  " 


296  WANDERERS 

"  Yes,"  I  answered. 

And  he  went  off,  relieved,  to  the  stables,  to  harness  up. 

Grindhusen,  too,  comes  along,  on  the  way  to  the 
stable.  He  stops  for  a  moment  to  tell  me  that  the 
Captain  has  himself  offered  him  work  cutting-  wood. 
"  '  Saw  up  all  the  small  stuff  you  can,'  he  said  ;  '  keep 
at  it  for  a  while.  I  dare  say  we  can  agree  all  right 
about  wages.'  '  Honoured  and  thank  you,  Captain,' 
says  I.  '  Right!  Go  and  tell  Nils,'  he  says.  Oh,  but 
he's  a  grand  open-handed  sort,  is  the  Captain  !  There's 
not  many  of  his  like  about." 

A  little  while  after,  I  was  sent  for  up  to  the  Captain's 
room.  He  thanked  me  for  the  work  I  had  done  both 
indoors  and  out,  and  went  on  to  settle  up.  And  that 
was  all,  really.  But  he  kept  me  there  a  little,  asking 
one  or  two  things  about  the  drying-shed,  and  we 
talked  over  that  for  a  bit.  Anyhow  it  would  have  to 
wait  till  after  Christmas,  he  said.  But  when  the  time 
came,  he'd  be  glad  to  see  me  back.  He  looked  me  in 
the  face  then,  and  went  on  : 

"  But  you  won't  come  back  here  again  now,  I 
suppose  ?  " 

I  was  taken  by  surprise.  But  I  faced  him  squarely 
in  return,  and  answered  : 

"No." 

As  I  went  down,  I  thought  over  what  he  had  said. 
Had  he  seen  through  me,  then?  If  so,  he  had  shown 
a  degree  of  trust  in  me  that  I  was  glad  to  think  of. 
At  least,  he  was  a  man  of  good  feeling. 

Trust  me?  And  why  should  he  not?  Played  out 
and  done  with  as  I  was.  Suffered  to  go  about  and  do 
and  be  as  I  pleased,  by  virtue  of  my  eminent  incapacity 
for  harm.  Yes,  that  was  it.  And,  anyhow,  there  was 
nothing  to  see  through  after  all. 

I  went  round,  upstairs  and  down,  saying  good-bye  to 
them  all,  to  Ragnhild  and  the  maids.  Then,  as  I  was 


WANDERERS  297 

coming  in  front  of  the  house  with  my  pack  on  my 
shoulder,  the  Captain  called  to  me  from  the  steps : 

"  Wait !  I  just  thought — if  you're  going  to  the 
station,  the  lad  could  drive  you  in." 

Thoughtful  and  considerate  again!  But  I  thanked 
him  and  declined.  I  was  not  so  played  out  but  that  I 
could  surely  walk  that  way. 

Back  in  my  little  town  again.  And  if  I  have  come 
here  now,  it  is  because  the  place  lies  on  my  way  to 
Trovatn,  up  in  the  hills. 

All  is  as  it  was  before  here  now,  save  for  thin  ice 
on  the  river  above  and  below  the  rapids,  and  snow 
on  the  ice  again. 

I  take  care  to  buy  clothes  and  equipment  here  in 
the  town,  and,  having  got  a  good  pair  of  new  shoes,  I 
take  my  old  ones  to  the  cobbler  to  be  half-soled.  The 
cobbler  is  inclined  to  talk,  and  begs  me  to  sit  down. 
'And  where's  this  man  from,  now?"  he  asks.  In 
a  moment  I  am  enveloped  by  the  spirit  of  the  town. 

I  walk  up  to  the  churchyard.  Here,  too,  care  has 
been  taken  to  provide  equipment  for  the  winter. 
Bundles  of  straw  have  been  fastened  round  plants  and 
bushes  ;  many  a  delicate  monument  is  protected  by  a 
tall  wooden  hood.  And  the  hoods  again  armoured 
with  a  coat  of  paint.  As  if  some  provident  soul  had 
thought:  Well,  now,  I  have  this  funeral  monument 
here;  with  proper  care  it  may  be  made  to  last  for 
generations  ! 

There  is  a  Christmas  Fair  on,  too,  and  I  stroll  along 
to  see.  Here  are  ski  and  toboggans,  butter  scoops 
and  log  chairs  from  the  underworld,  rose-coloured 
mittens,  clothes'  rollers,  foxes'  skins.  And  here  are 
horse-dealers  and  drovers  mingling  with  drunken  folk 
from  up  the  valley.  Jews  there  are,  too,  anxious  to 
palm  off  a  gaudy  watch  or  so,  for  all  there  is  no  money 


298  WANDERERS 

in  the  town.  And  the  watches  come  from  that  country 
up  in  the  Alps,  where  Bocklin — did  not  come  from  ; 
where  nothing  and  nobody  ever  came  from. 

But  in  the  evening  there  is  brave  entertainment  for 
all.  Two  dancing-halls  there  are,  and  the  music  is 
supplied  by  masters  on  the  hardingfele,  and  wonderful 
music  it  is,  to  be  sure.  There  are  iron  strings  to  it, 
and  it  utters  no  empty  phrases,  but  music  with  a  sting 
in  its  tail.  It  acts  differently  upon  different  people  : 
some  find  it  rich  in  national  sweetness  ;  some  of  us 
are  rather  constrained  to  grit  our  teeth  and  howl  in 
melancholy  wise.  Never  was  stinging  music  delivered 
with  more  effect. 

The  dance  goes  on. 

In  one  of  the  intervals  the  schoolmaster  sings 
touching  verses  about  an 

"ag-ed  mother,  worn  with  toil 
And  sweating  as  'twere  blood.  ..." 

But  some  of  the  wild  youths  insist  on  dancing  and 
nothing  else.  What's  this  !  Start  singing,  when 
they're  standing  here  with  the  girls  all  ready  to  dance 
— it's  not  proper !  The  singer  stops,  and  meets  the 
protest  in  broadest  dialect:  What?  Not  proper? 
Why,  it's  by  Vinje  himself!  Heated  discussion,  pro 
and  contra,  arguing  and  shouting.  Never  were  verses 
sung  with  more  effect. 

The  dance  goes  on. 

The  girls  from  the  valley  are  armoured  five  layers 
thick,  but  who  cares  for  that !  All  are  used  to  hard 
work.  And  the  dance  goes  on — ay,  the  thunder  goes 
on.  Brcendevin  helps  things  bravely  along.  The 
witches'  cauldron  is  fairly  steaming  now.  At  three  in 
the  morning  the  local  police  force  appears,  and  knocks 
on  the  floor  with  his  stick.  Finis.  The  dancers  go  off 
in  the  moonlight,  and  spread  out  near  and  far.  And 


WANDERERS  299 

nine  months  later,  the  girls  from  the  valley  show  proof 
that  after  all  they  were  one  layer  of  armour  short. 
Never  was  such  an  effect  of  being  one  layer  short. 

The  river  is  quieter  now — not  much  of  a  river  to  look 
at :  the  winter  is  come  upon  it  now.  It  drives  the  mills 
and  works  that  stand  on  its  banks,  for,  in  spite  of  all, 
it  is  and  will  be  a  great  river  still,  but  it  shows  no  life. 
It  has  shut  down  the  lid  on  itself. 

And  the  rapids  have  suffered,  too.  And  I  who  stood 
watching  them  once  and  listening,  and  thought  to 
myself  if  one  lived  down  there  in  the  roar  of  it  for  ever, 
what  would  one's  brain  be  like  at  last  ?  But  now  the 
rapids  are  dwindled,  and  murmur  faintly.  It  would  be 
shame  to  call  it  a  roar.  Herregud!  'tis  no  more  than 
a  ruin  of  what  it  was.  Sunk  into  poverty,  great  rocks 
thrust  up  all  down  the  channel,  with  here  and  there 
a  stick  of  timber  hung  up  thwart  and  slantwise  ;  one 
could  cross  dry-shod  by  way  of  stick  and  stone. 

I  have  done  all  I  have  to  do  in  the  town,  and  my 
pack  is  on  my  shoulders.  It  is  Sunday,  and  a  fine 
clear  day. 

I  look  in  at  the  hotel,  to  see  the  porter ;  he  is  going 
with  me  a  bit  of  the  way  up  the  river.  The  great 
good-hearted  fellow  offers  to  carry  my  things— as  if 
I  could  not  carry  them  myself. 

We  go  up  along  the  right  bank,  but  the  road  itself 
lies  on  the  left ;  the  way  we  are  taking  is  only  a 
summer  path,  trodden  only  by  the  lumbermen,  and 
with  some  few  fresh  tracks  in  the  snow.  My  com- 
panion cannot  make  out  why  we  do  not  follow  the 
road :  he  was  always  dull  of  wit ;  but  I  have  been  up 
this  path  twice  before  these  last  few  days,  and  I  am 
going  up  it  once  again.  It  is  my  own  tracks  we  can 
see  all  the  time. 

I  question  him  : 


300  WANDERERS 

"That  lady  you  told  me  about  once— the  one  that 
was  drowned — was  it  somewhere  about  here  ?  " 

"Eh?  Oh,  the  one  that  fell  in!  Yes.  Ay,  it  was 
close  by  here.  Dreadful  it  was.  There  must  have 
been  twenty  of  us  here,  with  the  police,  searching 
about." 

"  Dragging  the  channel  ?  " 

"Yes.  We  got  out  planks  and  ladders,  but  they 
broke  through  under  us  ;  we  cut  up  all  the  ice  in  the 
end.  Here" — he  stopped  suddenly — "you  can  see 
the  way  we  went." 

I  can  see  the  dark  space  where  the  boats  had 
moved  out  and  broken  through  the  ice  to  drag  the 
depth  ;  it  was  frozen  over  again  now. 

The  porter  goes  on  : 

"We  found  her  at  last.  And  a  mercy  it  was,  I 
dare  say,  the  river  was  low  as  it  was.  Gone  right 
down  at  once,  she  had,  and  got  stuck  fast  between 
two  stones.  There  was  no  current  to  speak  of;  if  it 
had  been  spring,  now,  she'd  have  travelled  a  long 
way  down." 

"  Trying  to  cross  to  the  other  side,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Ay.  They're  always  getting  out  on  the  ice  as 
soon  as  it  comes  ;  a  nasty  way  it  is.  Somebody  had 
been  over  already,  but  that  was  two  days  before.  She 
just  came  walking  down  on  this  side  where  we  are, 
and  the  engineer,  he  was  coming  down  the  road  on  the 
other  side — he'd  been  out  on  his  bicycle  somewhere. 
Then  they  caught  sight  of  each  other  and  waved  or 
made  a  sign  or  something,  for  they  were  cousins  or 
something,  both  of  them.  Then  the  lady  must  have 
mistaken  him  somehow,  the  engineer  says,  and  thought 
he  was  beckoning,  for  she  started  to  come  across.  He 
shouted  at  her  not  to,  but  she  didn't  hear,  and  he'd  [got 
his  bicycle  and  couldn't  move,  but,  anyhow,  someone 
had  got  across  before.  The  engineer  told  the  police 


WANDERERS  30 1 

all  about  how  it  happened,  and  it  was  written  down, 
every  word.      Well,    and    then  when   she's    half-way 
across,  she  goes  down.     A  rotten  piece  of  ice  it  must 
have    been   where   she   trod.      And   the   engineer,    he 
comes  down  like  lightning  on  his  bicycle  through  the 
town  and  up  to  the  hotel  and  starts  ringing.     I  never 
heard  the  like,  the  way  he  rang.     <  There's  someone  in 
the  river  ! '  he  cries  out.     «  My  cousin's  fallen  in  ! '     Out 
we  went,  and  he  came  along  with  us.     We'd  ropes  and 
boat-hooks,  but  that  was  no  use.      The   police  came 
soon  after,  and  the  fire  brigade  ;  they  got  hold  of  a 
boat  up  there  and  carried  it  between  them  till  they  got 
to  us  ;  then  they  got  it  out  and  started  searching  about 
with  the  drag.     We  didn't  find  her  the  first  day,  but 
the  day  after.     Ay,  a  nasty  business,  that  it  was." 
"  And  her  husband  came,  you  said.     The  Captain  ?  " 
;'Yes,  the  Captain,  he  came.     And  you  can  reckon 
for  yourself  the  state  he  was  in.     And  we  were  all  the 
same,  for  that  matter,  all  the  town  was.     The  engineer, 
he  was  out  of  his  senses  for  a  long  while,  so  they  told 
us   at   the   hotel,   and  when  the  Captain  arrived,   the 
engineer  went  off  inspecting  up  the  river,  just  because 
he  couldn't  bear  to  talk  any  more  about  it." 
'  So  the  Captain  didn't  see  him,  then?  " 
"  No.     H'm  !     Nay,  I  don't  know,".^aid  the  porter, 
looking  around.     «  No,  I  don't  know  anything  about 
that — no." 

His  answer  was  so  confused,  it  was  evident  that  he 
did  know.  But  it  was  of  no  importance,  and  I  did  not 
question  him  again. 

"Well,  thanks  for  coming  up  with  me,"  I  said,  and 
shared  a  little  money  with  him  for  a  winter  wrap  or 
something  of  the  sort.  And  I  took  leave  of  him,  and 
wanted  him  to  turn  back. 

He  seemed  anxious,  however,  to  go  on  with  me  a 
ttle  farther.     And,  to  get  me  to  agree,  he  suddenly 


302  WANDERERS 

confesses  that  the  Captain  had  seen  the  engineer  while 
he  was  here — yes.  The  porter,  good  foolish  creature, 
had  understood  enough  of  the  maids'  gossip  in  the 
kitchen  to  make  out  that  there  was  something  wrong 
about  the  engineer  and  this  cousin  of  his  who  had 
come  to  stay  ;  more  than  this,  however,  he  had  not 
seen.  But,  as  regards  the  meeting  between  the  two 
men,  it  was  he  himself  who  had  acted  as  guide  to  the 
Captain  on  his  way  up  to  find  the  engineer. 

"  He  said  he  must  find  him,  and  so  we  went  up 
together.  And  the  Captain,  he  asked  me  on  the  way, 
what  could  there  be  to  inspect  up  the  river  now  it  was 
frozen  over?  And  I  couldn't  see  myself,  I  told  him. 
And  so  we  walked  up  all  day  to  about  three  or  four  in 
the  afternoon.  '  We  might  see  if  he's  not  in  the  hut 
here,'  I  said,  for  I'd  heard  the  lumbermen  used  the 
place.  Then  the  Captain  wouldn't  let  me  go  on  with 
him  any  farther,  but  told  me  to  wait.  And  he  walked 
up  to  the  hut  by  himself,  and  went  in.  He'd  not  been 
in  the  place  more  than  a  bare  couple  of  minutes,  when 
out  he  comes,  and  the  engineer  with  him.  There  was 
a  word  or  so  between  them — I  didn't  hear  ;  then  all  of 
a  sudden  the  Captain  flings  up  one  arm  like  that,  and 
lands  out  at  the  engineer,  and  down  he  goes.  Lord  ! 
but  he  must  have  felt  it  pretty  badly.  And  not  content 
with  that,  he  picks  him  up  and  lands  out  at  him  again 
as  hard  as  before.  Then  he  came  back  to  me  and  said 
we'd  be  going  home." 

I  grew  thoughtful  at  this.  It  seemed  strange  that 
this  porter,  a  creature  who  bore  no  grudge  or  ill-will  to 
anyone,  should  leave  the  engineer  up  there  at  the  hut 
without  aid.  And  he  had  shown  no  disapproval  in  his 
telling  of  the  thrashing.  The  engineer  must  have  been 
miserly  with  him,  too,  I  thought,  and  never  paid  him 
for  his  services,  but  only  ordered  him  about  and  laughed 
at  him,  puppy  that  he  was.  That  would  be  it,  no 


WANDERERS  303 

doubt.     And  this  time,  perhaps,  I  was  not  misled  by 
jealous  feelings  of  my  own. 

"But  the  Captain— he  was  free  with  his  money,  if 
you  like,"  said  the  porter  at  last.  "  I  paid  off  all  my 
owings  with  what  he  gave  me— ay,  indeed  I  did." 

When  at  last  I  had  got  rid  of  the  man,  I  crossed  the 
river;  the  ice  was  firm  enough.  I  was  on  the  main 
road  now.  And  I  walked  on,  thinking  over  the  porter's 
story.  That  scene  at  the  hut— what  did  it  amount  to, 
after  all  ?  It  merely  showed  that  one  of  the  two  men 
was  big  and  strong,  the  other  a  little,  would-be  sports- 
man heavily  built  behind.  But  the  Captain  was  an 
officer— it  was  something  of  that  sort,  perhaps,  he  had 
been  thinking.  Perhaps  he  ought  to  have  thought  a 
little  more  in  other  ways  while  there  was  yet  time— who 
can  say?  It  was  his  wife  who  had  been  drowned. 
The  Captain  might  do  what  he  pleased  now  ;  she  would 
never  come  again. 

But  if  she  did,  what  then?  She  was  born  to  her 
fate,  no  doubt.  Husband  and  wife  had  tried  to  patch 
up  the  damage,  but  had  failed.  I  remember  her  as  she 
was  six  or  seven  years  back.  She  found  life  dull,  and 
fell  in  love  a  trifle  here  and  there  perhaps,  even  then 
but  she  was  faithful  and  delicate-minded.  And  time 
went  on.  She  had  no  occupation,  but  had  three  maid- 
servants to  her  house  ;  she  had  no  children,  but  she 
had  a  piano.  But  she  had  no  children. 

And  Life  can  afford  to  waste. 

Mother  and  child  it  was  that  went  down. 


EPILOGUE 

A  WANDERER  plays  with  muted  strings  when 
he  comes  to  fifty  years.  Then  he  plays  with 
muted  strings. 

Or  I  might  put  it  this  way. 

If  he  comes  too  late  for  the  harvest  of  berries  in 
autumn,  why,  he  is  come  too  late,  that  is  all ;  and  if 
one  fine  day  he  finds  he  can  no  longer  be  gay  and 
laugh  all  over  his  face  in  delight  of  life,  'tis  because  he 
is  old,  no  doubt ;  blame  him  not  for  that !  And  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  it  requires  a  certain  vacuity  of 
mind  to  go  about  feeling  permanently  contented  with 
oneself  and  all  else.  But  we  have  all  our  softer 
moments.  A  prisoner  is  being  driven  to  the  scaffold 
in  a  cart.  A  nail  in  the  seat  irks  him  ;  he  shifts  aside 
a  little,  and  feels  more  at  ease. 

A  Captain  should  not  pray  that  God  may  forgive  him 
— as  he  forgives  his  God.  It  is  simply  theatrical.  A 
wanderer  who  cannot  reckon  every  day  on  food  and 
drink,  clothes  and  boots,  and  house  and  home,  feels 
just  the  right  degree  of  privation  when  all  these  luxuries 
are  lacking.  If  you  cannot  manage  one  way,  why, 
there  will  be  another.  But  if  the  other  way  should 
also  fail,  then  one  does  not  forgive  one's  God,  but 
takes  up  the  responsibility  oneself.  Shoulder  against 
what  comes — that  is,  bow  to  it.  A  trifle  hard  for 
flesh  and  blood,  and  it  greys  a  man's  hair  sadly. 
But  a  wanderer  thanks  God  for  life ;  it  was  good 
to  live! 


WANDERERS  3o5 

I  might  put  it  that  way. 

For  why  these  high  demands  on  life?     What  hav* 
we  earned?    All   the  boxes  of  sweetmeats   a  sweet 
tooth   could  wish  for?     Well   and  good.      But  Tave 
we  not  had  the  world   to   look   upon   each  day,   and 
the  soughmg  of  the  woods  to  hear?     There  is  nothing 

wood"        m    aU    the    W°rld    aS    that    V°ice 


There  was  a  scent  of  jasmine  in  a  shrubbery,  and  one 
I  know  thnlled  with  joy,  not  for  the  jasmines'  seen"! 
but  for  all  there  was-for  the  light  in  a  window  a 
memo,*  the  whole  of  life.  He  wi  called  awayfrom 

but  he  had  been  paid 


And  so  it  is  ;  the  mere  grace  that  we  are  given  life 
at  a    „  generous  payment  in  advance  for  all  the  miseries 
life—  for  every  one  of  them. 
No,  do  not  think  we  have  the  right  to  more  sweet- 


at  anyone  who  can  be  so  comical.     I  remember      e 

fire  Thi   T  ***  ""  ""'  "  hiS'"     He  S'arted  '°  *V* 
in  his  stove  at  noon,  and  by  evening  he  got  it  to 

leave 


ed 

bed,  but  sat  there  till  other  people  got  up,  lest 

£  WaSted'      A  N°rWegian  ^  °f  -£ 
I  have  wandered  about  a  good  deal  in  my  time  and 

n«  hTnT,  00"Sh  n°W'  and  °Ut  of  blo°™-     But  I  do 
not  hold  the  perverse  belief  of  old  men 


vse  t  ow 

Ufc  ft  is  natSr  deCrepitude-  If  I  'hank  God  for 

te,  ,1  ,s  not  by  v.rtue  of  any  riper  wisdom  that  ha- 
come  to  me  with  age,  but  because  I  have  a,ways  take" 


306  WANDERERS 

a  pleasure  in  life.      Age  gives  no  riper  wisdom  ;  age 
gives  nothing  but  age. 

I  was  too  late  for  the  berries  this  year,  but  I  am 
going  up  that  way  all  the  same.  I  am  allowing  myself 
this  little  treat,  by  way  of  reward  for  having  worked 
well  this  summer.  And  1  reached  my  goal  on  the  I2th 
of  December. 

It  is  true,  no  doubt,  that  I  might  have  stayed  down 
among  the  villages.  I  could  have  managed  somehow, 
no  doubt,  as  did  all  the  others  who  had  found  it  time 
to  settle  down.  And  Lars  Falkenberg,  my  colleague 
and  mate,  he  had  urged  me  to  take  up  a  holding  with 
keep  for  a  wife  and  two  cows  and  a  pig.  A  friend's 
advice  ;  vox  populi.  And  then,  why,  one  of  the  cows 
might  be  an  ox  to  ride,  a  means  of  transport  for  my 
shivering  age !  But  it  came  to  naught — it  came  to 
naught !  My  wisdom  has  not  come  with  age  ;  here  am 
I  going  up  to  Trovatn  and  the  waste  lands  to  live  in  a 
wooden  hut ! 

What  pleasure  can  there  be  in  that?  At,  Lars  Fal- 
kenberg, and  ai,  everyone  else,  have  no  fear  ;  I  have  a 
man  to  come  up  with  things  I  need. 

So  I  drift  about  and  about  by  myself,  looking  after 
myself,  living  alone.  I  miss  that  seal  of  Bishop  Pavel's. 
One  of  his  descendants  gave  it  to  me,  and  I  had  it  in 
my  waistcoat  pocket  this  summer,  but,  looking  for  it 
now,  I  find  I  have  lost  it.  Well,  well ;  but,  anyhow,  I 
have  been  paid  in  advance  for  that  mishap,  in  having 
owned  it  once. 

But  I  do  not  feel  the  want  of  books  to  read. 

The  1 2th  of  December — I  can  keep  a  date  in  mind, 
and  carelessly  forget  things  more  important.  It  is 
only  just  now  I  remember  about  the  books — that  Captain 
Falkenberg  and  his  wife  had  many  books  in  their 


WANDERERS  307 

house — novels  and  plays — a  whole  bookcase  full.  I 
saw  it  one  day  when  I  was  painting  windows  and  doors 
at  0vreb0.  Whole  series  of  authors  they  had,  and 
authors'  whole  series— thirty  books.  Why  the  whole 
series  ?  I  do  not  know.  Books— one,  two,  three,  ten, 
thirty.  They  had  come  out  each  Christmas— novels, 
thirty  volumes— the  same  novel.  They  read  them,  no 
doubt,  the  Captain  and  his  wife  ;  knew  every  time  what 
they  should  find  in  the  poets  of  the  home  ;  there  was 
always  such  a  lot  about  all  coming  right  in  the  end. 
So  they  read  them,  no  doubt.  How  should  I  know? 
Heavens,  what  a  host  of  books  !  Two  men  could  not 
shift  the  bookcase  when  I  wanted  to  paint  behind  ;  it 
took  three  men  and  a  cook  to  move  it.  One  of  the 
men  was  Grindhusen  ;  he  flushed  under  the  weight  of 
those  poets  of  the  home,  and  said:  "I  can't  see  what 
folk  want  with  such  a  mighty  crowd  of  books  !  " 

Grindhusen  !  As  if  he  knew  anything  about  it !  The 
Captain  and  his  wife  had  all  those  books,  no  doubt, 
that  none  should  be  lacking;  there  they  were  all 
complete.  It  would  make  a  gap  to  take  away  a  single 
one;  they  were  paired  each  with  the  rest,  uniform 
poetry,  the  same  story  throughout. 

An  elk-hunter  has  been  up  here  with  me  in  the  hut. 
Nothing  much  ;  and  his  dog  was  an  ill-tempered  brute. 
I  was  glad  when  he  went  on  again.  He  took  down 
my  copper  saucepan  from  the  wall,  and  used  it  for  his 
cooking,  and  left  it  black  with  soot. 

It  is  not  my  copper  saucepan,  but  was  here  in  the 
hut,  left  by  someone  who  was  here  before.  I  only 
rubbed  it  with  ashes  and  hung  it  up  on  the  wall  as  a 
weather-guide  for  myself.  I  am  rubbing  it  up  again 
now,  for  it  is  a  good  thing  to  have;  it  turns  dim 
unfailingly  when  there  is  rain  or  snow  coming  on. 

If  Ragnhild  had   been  here,  now,  she  would  have 


308  WANDERERS 

polished  up  that  saucepan  herself.  But  then,  again,  1 
tell  myself,  I  would  rather  see  to  my  own  weather- 
guides  ;  Ragnhild  can  find  something  else  to  do.  And 
if  this  place  up  in  the  woods  were  our  clearing,  then 
she  would  have  the  children,  and  the  cows,  and  the 
pig.  But  my  copper  things  I  prefer  to  do  myself, 
Ragnhild. 

I  remember  a  lady,  the  mistress  of  a  house :  she 
did  no  work  at  all,  and  saw  to  nothing,  least  of  all  to 
herself.  And  ill  she  fared  in  the  end.  But  six  or  seven 
years  back  I  had  never  believed  anyone  could  be  so 
delicate  and  lovely  to  another  as  she.  I  drove  her  once, 
upon  a  journey,  and  she  was  shy  with  me,  although 
she  was  a  lady,  and  above  me.  She  blushed  and 
looked  down.  And  the  strange  thing  was  that  she 
made  me  feel  a  kind  of  shyness  myself,  although  I  was 
only  her  servant.  Only  by  looking  at  me  with  her  two 
eyes  when  she  spoke  to  me,  she  showed  me  treasures 
and  beauty  beyond  what  I  knew  before  ;  I  remember  it 
still.  Ay,  here  I  sit,  remembering  it  yet,  and  I  shake 
my  head  and  say  to  myself  how  strange  it  was — how 
strange  !  And  then  she  died.  And  what  more  ?  Nothing 
more.  I  am  still  here,  but  she  is  gone.  But  I  should 
not  grieve  at  her  death.  I  had  been  paid  beforehand, 
surely,  for  that  loss,  in  that  she  looked  at  me  with  her 
two  eyes — a  thing  beyond  my  deserts.  Ay,  so  it  must  be. 

Woman — what  do  the  sages  know  of  woman  ? 

I  know  a  sage,  and  he  wrote  of  woman.  Wrote  of 
woman  in  thirty  volumes  of  uniform  theatre-poetry :  I 
counted  the  volumes  once  in  a  big  bookcase.  And  at 
last  he  wrote  of  the  woman  who  left  her  own  children 
to  go  in  search  of — the  wonderful !  But  what,  then, 
were  the  children  ?  Oh,  it  was  comical :  a  wanderer 
laughs  at  anything  so  comical. 

What  does  the  sage  know  of  woman  ? 

To  begin  with,  he  was  not  a  sage  at  all  till  he  grew 


WANDERERS  309 

old,  and  all  he  knew  of  woman  then  was  from  memory. 
But  then,  again,  he  can  have  no  memory  of  her,  seeing 
he  never  knew  her.  The  man  who  has  an  aptitude  for 
wisdom  busies  himself  jealously  with  his  little  aptitude 
and  nothing  else  ;  cultivates  and  cherishes  it ;  holds  it 
forth  and  lives  for  it.  We  do  not  turn  to  woman  for 
wisdom.  The  four  wisest  heads  in  the  world,  who 
have  delivered  their  findings  on  the  subject  of  woman, 
simply  sat  and  invented  her  out  of  their  own  heads- 
octogenarians  young  or  old  they  were,  that  rode  on 
oxen.  They  knew  nothing  of  woman  in  holiness, 
woman  in  sweetness,  woman  as  an  indispensable,  but 
they  wrote  and  wrote  about  her.  Think  of  it !  Without 
finding  her. 

Heaven  save  me  from  growing  wise!  And  I  will 
mumble  the  same  to  my  last  turn:  Heaven  save  me 
from  growing  wise ! 

Just  cold  enough  now  for  a  little  outing  I  have  had  in 
mind  :  the  snow-peaks  lie  rosy  in  the  sun,  and  my 
copper  saucepan  points  to  fair.  It  is  eight  in  the 
morning. 

Knapsack  and  a  good  stock  of  food,  an  extra  lashing 
in  my  pocket  in  case  anything  should  break,  and  a  note 
on  the  table  for  the  man  with  supplies  in  case  he  should 
come  up  while  I  am  away. 

Oh,  but  I  have  been  showing  off  nicely  all  to  myself: 
pretending  I  was  going  far,  and  needed  to  equip 
myself  with  care,  had  occasion  for  all  my  presence  of 
mind  and  endurance.  A  man  can  show  off  like  that 
when  he  is  going  far  ;  but  I  am  not.  I  have  no  errand 
anywhere,  and  nothing  calls  me  ;  I  am  only  a  wanderer 
setting  forth  from  a  hut,  and  coming  back  to  it  again  ; 
it  does  not  matter  where  I  am. 

It  is  quiet  and  empty  in  the  woods  ;  all  things  deep 
in  snow,  holding  their  breath  as  I  come.  At  noon, 


310  WANDERERS 

looking  back  from  a  hill,  I  can  see  Trovatn  far  behind  ; 
white  and  flat  it  lies,  a  stretch  of  chalk,  a  desert  of 
snow.  After  a  meal  I  go  on  again,  higher  and  higher, 
nearing  the  fjeld  now,  but  slowly  and  thoughtfully, 
with  hands  in  my  pockets.  There  is  no  hurry  ;  I  have 
only  to  find  a  shelter  for  the  night.  Later  on  in  the 
afternoon  I  sit  down  again  to  eat,  as  if  I  needed  a  meal 
and  had  earned  it.  But  it  is  only  for  something  to  do  ; 
my  hands  are  idle,  and  my  brain  inclined  to  fancies. 
It  gets  dark  early :  well  to  find  a  sheltered  cleft  in  the 
hillside  here  ;  there  are  fallen  firs  enough  lying  about 
for  a  fire. 

Such  are  the  things  I  tell  of  now,  playing  with  muted 
strings. 

I  was  out  early  next  morning,  as  soon  as  it  began  to 
get  light.  A  quiet,  warm  snowfall  came  on,  and  there 
was  a  soughing  in  the  air.  Bad  weather  coming,  I 
thought  to  myself;  but  who  could  have  foreseen  it? 
Neither  I  nor  my  weather-guide  looked  for  it  twenty- 
four  hours  ago. 

I  left  my  shelter  and  went  on  again  over  moor  and 
heath  ;  full  day  again  now,  and  snowing.  It  was  not 
the  best  of  shelters  I  had  found  for  the  night :  passably 
soft  and  dry,  with  branches  of  fir  to  lie  on,  and  I  had 
not  felt  the  cold,  but  the  smoke  from  my  fire  drifted  in 
over  me  and  troubled  my  breathing. 

But  now,  this  afternoon,  I  found  a  better  place — a 
spacious  and  elegant  cave  with  walls  and  roof  complete. 
Room  here  for  me  and  my  fire,  and  the  smoke  went  up. 
I  nodded  at  this,  and  decided  to  settle  down  here, 
though  it  was  early  yet,  and  still  quite  light ;  I  could 
distinctly  make  out  the  hills  and  valleys  and  rocks  on  a 
naked  fjeld  straight  ahead  some  few  hours'  march  away. 
But  I  nodded,  as  if  I  had  reached  my  goal,  and  set  to 
work  gathering  firewood  and  bedding  for  the  night. 

I  felt  so  thoroughly  at  home  here.     It  was  not  for 


WANDERERS  311 

nothing-  I  nodded  and  took  off  my  knapsack.  "Was 
this  the  place  you  were  making  for  ?  "  I  say,  talking  to 
myself  in  jest.  '  <  Yes, "  I  answer. 

The  soughing  in  the  air  grew  stronger ;  it  was  not 
snow  that  was  falling  now,  but  rain.  Strange— a  great 
wet  rainfall  down  over  the  cave,  over  all  the  trees 
outside,  and  yet  it  was  the  cold  Christmas  month- 
December.  A  heat-wave  had  taken  it  into  its  head  to 
visit  us. 

It  rained  and  rained  that  night,   and  there  was  a 
soughing  all  through  the  trees  outside.      It  was  like 
spring  ;  it  filled  my  sleep  at  last  with  so  rich  an  ease, 
that  I  slept  on  sound  and  deep  till  it  was  broad  day. 
Ten  o'clock. 

The  rain  has  ceased,  but  it  is  still  warm.  I  sit 
looking  out  of  the  cave,  and  listening  to  the  bend  and 
whisper  of  the  trees.  Then  a  stone  breaks  loose  on 
the  fjeld  opposite  ;  it  butts  against  a  rock  and  brings 
that  down  as  well ;  a  few  faint  thuds  are  heard.  Then 
a  rumble:  I  see  what  is  happening,  and  the  sound 
echoes  within  me;  the  rock  loosened  other  rocks,  an 
avalanche  goes  thundering  down  the  mountain-side, 
snow  and  earth  and  boulders,  leaving  a  smoky  cloud  in 
its  wake.  The  stream  of  rubble  seems  in  a  living  rage  ; 
t  thrusts  its  way  on,  tearing  down  other  masses  with 
it,  crowding,  pouring,  pouring,  fills  up  a  chasm  in  the 
valley— and  stops.  The  last  few  boulders  settle  slowly 
to  rest,  and  then  no  more  ;  the  thunder  over,  there  is 
silence,  and  within  myself  is  only  a  breathing  as  of  a 
slowly  descending  bass. 

And  so  I  sit  once  more,  listening  to  the  soughing  of 
the  woods.  Is  it  the  beating  of  the  ^Egean  Sea  that  I 
can  hear,  or  the  waters  of  Glimma?  I  grow  weak  with 
listening ;  memories  well  up  within  me  from  my  life— a 
thousand  joys,  music,  the  glance  of  the  eye— flowers. 
There  is  no  splendour  like  the  soughing  of  the  woods  ; 


3 1 2  WANDERERS 

it  is  like  swinging,  rocking — a  madness  ;  Uganda, 
Antananarivo,  Honolulu,  Atacama,  Venezuela. 

But  it  is  all  the  years,  no  doubt,  that  make  me  so 
weak,  and  my  nerves  that  join  in  the  sounds  I  hear.  I  get 
up  and  stand  by  the  fire  to  get  over  it ;  now  I  think  of 
it,  I  feel  I  could  talk  to  the  fire  a  little,  make  a  speech 
to  the  dying  fire.  I  am  in  a  fire-proof  house  here,  and 
the  acoustic  conditions  are  good.  H'm  ! 

Then  the  cave  is  darkened  ;  it  is  the  elk-hunter  again 
with  his  dog. 

It  begins  to  freeze  as  I  trudge  along  homeward  to 
my  hut.  The  frost  soon  hardens  the  ground,  moor 
and  heath,  making  it  easy  walking.  I  trudge  along 
slowly  and  carelessly,  hands  in  my  pockets.  There  is 
no  hurry  now  ;  it  matters  little  where  I  am. 


PRINTED    BY    MORRISON   AND  GIBB   LIMITED,    EDINBURGH 


Other    Works    by    KNUT    HAMSUN 

(Norwegian) 
(NOBEL  PRIZE,   1920) 

Translated  by  W.  WORSTER,  M.A. 

PAN 

A  Love  Story 

Crown  Svo  Cloth  75.  6d.  net 

"  Exquisite  ...  the  more  one  reads  the  book  the  more  one  realises 
its  witchery.  It  is  one  of  the  few  pieces  of  contemporary  fiction  which 
is  worthy  of  a  place  in  the  most  select  library."— Country  Life. 

' '  Pan '  will  serve  to  increase  the  warmth  of  welcome  which 
'  Growth  of  the  Soil '  has  already  won.  .  .  .  The  introduction  of  a 
new  note  into  our  literature  .  .  .  an  extraordinary  fascination." 

Daily  Telegraph. 

A  great  novel  ...   a  merciless  piece   of  self-revelation   .    .  . 
a  book  that  has  few  equals  in  any  literature." — Evening  Standard. 

"Simple  and  powerful  .  .  .  strong  and  absorbing  in  its  insight 
into  the  vital  springs  of  human  passion." — Scotsman. 

"This  beautiful  work." — Glasgow  Herald. 

"  A  love^  story  of  a  most  unusual  type,  with  a  rare,  wistful  charm 
.  .  .  a  book  which  no  reader  should  miss." — Weekly  Dispatch. 

"  Is  marked  by  flashes  of  rare  poetic  beauty  ...  a  wonderful  bit  of 
literary  craftsmanship." — Aberdeen  Free  Press. 

MOTHWISE 

With  an  Introductory  Note  by  W.  WORSTER,  M.A. 
Crown  Svo  Cloth  6s.  net 

"A  quaint,  charming,  and  delightfully  unconventional  story  which 
should  on  no  account  be  missed.  .  .  ." — Tatler. 

"...  witchery  and  charm  .  .   .  as  elusive  as  it  is  fascinating." 

Field. 
A  book  to  put  on  the  library  list  at  the  earliest  opportunity." 

Court  Journal. 

.  .  .  a  draught  of  intellectual  wine.     A  gem." — Sportsman. 
"A  great  treat,  like  a  bottle  of  rare  old  wine  discovered  at  an  inn." 

Ladies'  Field. 
'A  skilful  piece  of  diversion,  with  touches  of  sober  poetic  beauty." 

Observer. 

"...  altogether  fresh  and  delightful."— Daily  News. 

"  A  charming  comedy,  humorous  and  natural  .  .  .  may  delight  the 
taste  of  an  epicure." — Liverpool  Daily  Post. 

"Quite  charming  .  .  .  written  with  the  hand  of  one  to  whom 
human  feeling  is  precious."— Manchester  Guardian. 

"A  masterpiece." — Scotsman. 


A  POPULAR  EDITION  OF 

KNUT  HAMSUN'S  GREATEST  WORK 

GROWTH  OF  THE  SOIL 

Translated  by  W.  WORSTER,  M.A. 

45.  6d.  net 

Crown  Svo       Well  printed  on  good  paper  and  bound  in  cloth 

"A  beautiful  work  of  genius  ...  by  a  proved  master." — West- 
minster Gazette, 

"  An  absorbing  story  told  with  a  marvellous  simplicity." 

Times  Literary  Supplement, 
"A  picture  of  infinite  tenderness  and  humanity." — Daily  Telegraph, 

"  Hamsun  . . .  has  the  godlike  qualities  that  belong  to  the  very  great." 

The  New  Statesman. 

"...  indescribably  calm  and  tremendous  ...  so  entirely  human, 
that  we  cannot  skip  one  line  .  .  .  the  critical  faculty  abdicates  and 
there  is  nothing  left  but  words  of  praise  .  .  ." — The  Bookman, 

"  New  novels  of  lasting  value  have  been  very  rare  of  late.  Here, 
at  least,  is  one." — Review  of  Reviews, 

THE   MIRACLES   OF 
CLARA  VAN  HAAG 

By  JOHANNES  BUCHHOLTZ  (Danish) 

Translated  by  W.  WORSTER,  M.A. 

Crown  %vo  Cloth  8s.  6d.  net 

"Powerful,"  "  admirable,"  "remarkable,"  "weird 
and  amusing,"  "strikingly  interesting,"  "great 
originality,"  these  are  some  of  the  comments  which 
greeted  the  first  appearance  of  Buchholtz  in  English. 

In  the  present  work  the  author  gives  us  the  fantastic 
humour  and  remarkable  insight  of  the  first,  with  a  new 
and  delightful  creation  of  particular  charm  in  the  figure 
of  Clara  van  Haag  herself. 

Readers  who  have  already  become  acquainted  with 
Egholm,  the  erratic  philosopher  and  inventor,  will  be 
glad  to  meet  him  again  ;  for  those  who  have  not,  there 
is  a  pleasure  in  store. 


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the  figures  thereon  altered. 


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